Chapter Text
What a hellish day.
Buck slumps on the bench in the locker room, feeling exhausted, not for the first time and not for the last, more mentally than physically.
The calls themselves haven’t been particularly challenging, though, but the atmosphere in-between them, or the way the team was allowed to interact, was more than tiring. Because, well, to put it bluntly…they weren’t allowed to interact…much.
The first change Captain Gerrard has made at the 118 was to separate or tamper with the existing core team. Hen and Chimney have been flanked by a temporary shadow ailing from Gerrard’s apparently unending pool of minions. Jim Pound is constantly making sure that the two best friends can’t even breathe without him standing, crouching or leaning between them. Not to mention the fact that he asks about their actions systematically. To ‘check that nothing is amiss’.
It's of course a barely concealed jab at Hen’s job as a paramedic, but the insults are not flying as they apparently used to, so none of them can really complain about the man. Not officially anyway.
The second change is that Ravi, understandably, has chosen to be put back on B-shift for the time being, although he promised all of them to be back as soon as Bobby is reinstated.
And, finally…
Well…
Eddie.
Eddie’s been sent to C-shift, often considered the worst of the bunch, with the miserable excuse that his ‘skills are redundant in A-shift and could be of so much more use elsewhere’.
Buck, subsequently, finds himself…well…alone.
This is complete Hell.
That isn’t taking into account the fact that, after already three weeks of this inhuman dictature, there seems to be no hope on the horizon for Bobby to get his post back. Apparently, some Councilmember is vehemently opposed to it and constantly vetoing his return.
All of this to say, that this day has so far been one of the worst in an already too long list of days spent in his lonesome or trying to act as a team with someone he doesn’t even know the name of. It’s a miracle that no one has died on their watch, yet.
After trying to hype himself up to stand and move, Buck finally manages to get to his and Eddie’s shared locker, sighing wistfully once he catches sight of the photograph that his friend has tacked there an age ago; a photo of Chris and Eddie taken on the day Chris spent at the fire station what seems like a century ago.
Buck misses Chris like a limb; but it’s even worse combined with the fact that he barely has the occasion to see Eddie as well, now. Their shifts never interlap, and they never have the same days off. In three weeks, they’ve only managed to text and, once, to FaceTime, with Buck hiding in the back of the ambulance while Hen covered for him with a story about indigestion.
He misses both his Diaz boys. Terribly. Horribly. Heartbreakingly.
He’s seldom felt so alone, actually.
He doesn’t even remember getting undressed and putting his jeans back up, lost in his gloomy thoughts as he’s been for the past minutes; but he’s shaken off these thoughts by an incoming text on his revived phone.
These days, it can only be Tommy – though it seems unlikely, Buck has had to initiate contact every time for the past month – or Eddie.
It’s with that everlasting hope that it’s the latter that he nearly rips the phone out of his jacket pocket to check the sender.
It’s not Eddie.
But it’s not Tommy, either.
Natalia [Today, 1:32pm]
Hi Buck. I know you must wonder why I’m contacting you after so long. I don’t even know if you deleted or blocked my number, but I hope you didn’t. I need to see you. There’s something important I need to talk to you about.
Text me when you’re available. Natalia
Buck’s a bit frozen in confusion, to be fair.
It’s been about six months now, that Nat and him broke up. She hasn’t reached out even once since then, and he hasn’t felt the need to either. Even though they’d parted on good terms, he wasn’t exactly eager to retain a friendship with an ex at the time, and isn’t sure he is now.
Anyway. The fact that she has reached out, now, and apparently, needs to talk to him, is intriguing.
What can she possibly have to tell him after six months?
Is it related to her job?
Has one of her weird medium clients…seen his demise?
He doesn’t know, and, perhaps if his friends were with him in the locker room right now, they’d convince him to ignore her text altogether; but he’s alone, he’s got nothing in particular to do today, and he needs human contact.
Even if it’s to spend a few awkward minutes with his ex-girlfriend.
That’s what convinces him to actually answer.
Buck [Today, 1:57pm]
hey Nat. yeah, can’t pretend i’m not confused abt ur message.
free now. wanna meet?
Natalia [Today, 1:57pm]
Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll text you the address.
Thanks, Buck.
He stares at her answer in kind of awe.
When they were dating, Nat wasn’t exactly the worst texter he knew, but he’d always have to wait at least an hour before she answered a text. And he gets it: she shuts it off at work, doesn’t check it every two seconds like he does when he’s not working. It’s probably a much healthier way to deal with phones.
Anyway. She must have been staring at her screen, waiting with bated breath.
This must be all sorts of serious.
As proven by the address she pings him a few seconds later: a coffee shop about five minutes from the station.
So she’s been waiting for him to get off work, too.
What is going on?
“Hey Buckley, what’s you got there?”
The drawl comes from his assigned temporary partner, Lowell, who’s the scum of the Earth, as far as Buck’s concerned. They don’t make a good team on calls.
He’s shaken enough by Nat’s texts and this day as a whole to actually answer the guy. His mistake.
“My ex-girlfriend texted me.”
“Oh…” the man sneers as he slams closed his locker. “So you were normal before?”
As this Buck’s head snaps to the side, glaring openly at the other man, who’s still smirking, like the entitled homophobic shit-turd he is.
He can’t get back at him. He knows he can’t. He’d get suspended quicker than it’d take him to take a swing.
At the back of his mind, he can hear Bobby whisper ‘Ignore it, kid, it’s not worth it’.
And he listens.
He ignores the man, who appears kind of disappointed this didn’t turn into a brawl; grabs his duffel, closes his locker, and braces himself to meet with Nat.
Whatever this is about will be a good distraction from this Hell he’s been forced into.
Natalia is waiting for him as he pushes the coffee shop’s door opened. She’s sitting facing the door, but looking at the hands she’s twisting in her lap while she bites her lip.
Buck has never seen her so nervous. Not even the day she sat him down and started the conversation that brought upon their break up. Retrospectively, he’s thankful she was braver than him, because he’d been thinking about putting an end to it for weeks, by then.
As he comes closer to the table she’s sat at, he tries to figure out physical changes that could explain her nervousness; but she doesn’t look ill, or thinner. In fact, apart from paleness in her cheeks, she looks the same she’s always done: pretty and overly cute.
“Hey Nat,” he greets in what he hopes is a quiet voice.
She still jumps, her dark eyes rising to him and widening in…fear? “Buck!”
He sits in front of her immediately, frowning and absent-mindedly reaching for her hand. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Her skittishness computes in his mind as dread, since it looks a bit like how Maddie was when Doug was still alive. Is Nat being abused by someone? Did she come to him because he’s the only person she trusts?
What. Is. Going. On?
Natalia grabs his hand, and takes a deep breath to try and defuse the tension in her shoulders. Her free hand goes to her lap again. “Nothing’s wrong, per se. You can calm down.” She smiles a bit. “It’s good to see you.”
He smiles back. “It’s good to see you too.”
“I like what you did with your hair,” she adds with a softer, almost teasing smile he answers with his own.
No matter the fact that they used to date, in the end, they were more friends than lovers. Buck’s immediately filled with a bit of regret that they didn’t keep in touch after the sadness of their break up faded, despite what he thought earlier.
“Thanks. Are you ready to tell me why you asked me here?”
She tenses up, then takes another deep breath, and chuckles without humour. “Ready is the wrong word to use… I need to tell you what’s going on, but I don’t necessarily know how.” He simply frowns in response, so she seems to brace herself again. “What do you know about pregnancy denial?”
Buck’s frown deepens. “I…read about it.” Her perfectly manicured eyebrow raises, as if to say ‘No shit’, and he carries on. “A woman could ignore that she’s pregnant, up until the birth of her child, due to hormonal or psychological reasons.” He studies Nat, wondering why she broached the subject.
She sighs. “Yeah, that’s about it. Well, you know I’ve never wanted to have kids.” One of the few reasons they broke up in the first place: he wanted a big family, she absolutely didn’t. “Well…imagine my surprise when I found out I’m twenty-six weeks along…” She bites her lip again, and looks at him as if waiting for the shoe to drop.
And it takes a while to drop.
In fact, Buck stares at her a bit unseeing while he goes through what she just said and all the implications.
Natalia is pregnant. 26 weeks along, well into her sixth month, close to the end of her second trimester.
She’s pregnant, and 26 weeks means that they were still dating at the time of conception.
He gapes, like a fish out of its bowl, and Nat takes pity on him.
“I know, it’s a bit of a shock. It took me five days to decide to tell you. The first four, I was at hospital and…not really dealing well. It’s…well…unexpected.”
“Are you alright?” he asks, because he can’t not ask. He knows she’s never wanted kids. This mustn’t be easy for her to…accept.
Nat smiles, squeezes his hand. Now that he knows, he realises her other hand is not really on her lap but more pressed to her stomach.
“You’re not showing,” he adds, a bit dumbly.
She looks down. “The doctors say that, now I know, my body will catch up. In the next few days, I should get a baby bump and…other nice little symptoms like bloating and maybe even morning sickness. Joy.”
“But…” he swallows hard. “How did you realise?”
“I thought I was having extremely bad cramps, that were infinitely more painful than the usual ones. I got into the E.R. and learnt about a baby rearranging my insides and inciting period pains. It’s not exactly Braxton-Hicks, but akin to it.”
A silence stretches. Buck isn’t fully certain he’s present in the moment. His mind is kind of disassociating, trying – and failing – to grasp the full meaning of this.
“Buck,” Nat starts again, shaking his hand to bring him back to their conversation. “You know I don’t want kids. In fact,” she purses her lips and averts her eyes, “if I hadn’t been this far along, I would have aborted the pregnancy.”
Buck knows he can’t be mad at her. It’s her body and her choice, he has absolutely no say in the matter. But a big part of him, clawing out his chest, is raging at her for thinking about terminating this pregnancy, this miracle about to happen. He silences it. He’d have no say, and it’s a good thing too.
She looks at him knowingly. “So, when it became obvious that I had to carry this little Buckley into the world, I made the next easiest decision: once I’ve given birth, you’ll become sole guardian. I’ll sign over all my parental rights to you.” She bites her lip again. “If you want it, of course.”
“If I—” he swallows around a lump in his throat. “Nat, I—I want this kid. I…” he trails off, unable to truly put words to what he’s feeling right now. All of a sudden, it’s like a wave of emotion has rolled over him like a tsunami.
Nat squeezes his hand again. “I knew you’d want…them. As I said: easy decision to make. The only thing is, well…instead of nine months, we have about three to get ready. You to become a dad, and me to…give birth.” She makes a face and, despite himself, Buck chuckles.
“We’ll manage.” He squeezes her hand too. “You said…them?”
She grins. “It’s not twins, calm down. It’s just…I know the sex but…do you want to know?”
Buck thinks about it, and then shakes his head. “I’d rather keep the surprise. Thanks for…offering.”
“Well, you know, as far as I’m concerned, I’m your surrogate.” She chuckles again. “That’s what my emergency OB-Gyn said I could call myself, for the whole thing to be…less daunting. So, I’m your surrogate. And,” she adds with a bit of a glare, “it’s the only time I’ll be carrying a baby for you, Evan Buckley.”
He chuckles back, the sound turning into a bit of a maniacal laugh. He holds onto her hand through the whole process, scared that this will have been a hallucination at the end of the day.
He’s going to be a dad.
He’s going to have a baby.
Well, Nat is going to have a baby, but…you get my drift.
Once he’s calmed down, Buck’s grin turns into a soft smile. “Do you…want me to be there for…future appointments?”
“Well, I’ve got to speed-run through delivery classes, PT and of course I’ve got the whole sonogram thing, so…yeah, you better be there!” She slaps his wrist, prompting him to laugh again.
“Nat… Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Buckley. You may have to pay for my therapy bills, though.” She raises a brow again, cheekily.
“That won’t be an issue,” he answers, although he has no idea what a psychotherapist charges, these days.
Come to think of it, maybe he should reach out to Dr Copeland again. This is…a bit too monumental to go through alone.
“Okay, well,” she squeezes his hand one last time before releasing it and standing from the table, “I’ll text you about the next appointment, and leave you to…yeah.” She looks a bit sympathetic, right then, as if she’s expecting him to have a breakdown anytime now.
She’s probably right to worry.
He stands too, and brings her into his arms for a quick hug. Instinctively, one of his hands drifts a bit lower on her side, closer to her belly, but doesn’t cross the line.
She smiles knowingly when they part. “Next time,” she says with a pat to his shoulder, before leaving.
And that’s when the enormity of what’s happening starts to really dawn on him.
He’s going to be a Dad.
He’s going to be a Dad.
Oh my fucking God.
As expected, he freaks out once he’s sitting in his car.
The entirety of this day seems like a dream. A weird, life-changing, terrifying dream.
Buck has always wanted kids. More than one, more than two, perhaps three or four. Children to dote on, to teach all he knows, to love and cherish the way he wasn’t.
But…NOW?
Is he ready?
Is he ever going to be ready?
Is he truly going to be a good dad? Especially when the other parent isn’t going to be in the picture?
Again, he doesn’t begrudge Nat her choices. She was clear when they were together, that she didn’t feel maternal at all and didn’t want any kids. She was even thinking about getting an operation, at that time. Evidently, she hadn’t gone along with that idea since they’d broken up.
Then again, if she had, then they’d have discovered she was expecting sooner.
Because he’s going to be a dad.
Immediately, and even as his hands start shaking on top of the steering-wheel, he imagines a tiny baby that he can hold in his hands, with dark curly hair and bright blue eyes, looking up at him in awe. His chest does a complex series of swoops, and fear gives way to…elation.
He’s going to be a dad.
He lets out a cross between a laugh and a sob, and lets that sink in.
He, Evan Buckley, is going to become someone’s dad. For real.
And in about three months’ time.
Oh dear.
As usual when something he deems momentous happens in his life, his first reflex is to call Eddie.
Today, though, the phone doesn’t even ring, and sends him right to voicemail.
Right. Eddie must be at therapy. Or…somewhere.
He tries not to freak out about that.
His second instinct would be to call Maddie, but he knows for a fact that she’s having a spa day with Linda and that her phone will be shut off and in a locker, by now.
And with those two unavailable, well…
He hopes Tommy will be as excited as him about this prospect.
He starts the car, and decides to head to his boyfriend’s place. Too giddy for words.