Hey, ya'll. I haven't died. Yet. Just a sort of filler chapter. Though it is sort of important. It's almost a repeat of the last chapter except it's different.

I ran.

My steps were urgent though their echoes followed at a leisurely pace through the thick silence. As I came to intersection, I slowed to a stop and looked around. It seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite remember when I had ever been here before. The buildings on every corner were abnormally gray, the color nearly matching that of the pavement beneath my feet and the sky above my head. The windows were dark, unreflective squares. They stared blankly at me from the walls.

All the same.

I walked into the middle of the intersection and spun around, wondering which street I should take. To late I realized that I had forgotten which street I came from.

They were all the same.

Which way?

The buildings imperceptibly inched towards me, their eyes invading my vision with every fruitless turn I took. I suddenly felt claustrophobic. The air heated up around my body, sweat beginning to form on my forehead. I craved for a breeze.

It came. It caressed my face with cool fingers. It danced through my hair. It whispered in my ears.

I gasped. Surely not... I convinced myself it was a hallucination. A figment of my—

There it was again. From the left.

I took off.

All I could see were my feet moving back and forth, my sneakers forming two black streaks contrasting against the gray that was blurring by. My ears strained to hear her voice over the wind that now whistled around me.

"Freddie..."

I skidded to a halt. She had spoken impossibly close. I whirled around once again.

"Sam?" I said hesitantly.

The window behind me. I walked closer, staring into the looming blackness. I stopped with my face inches from the smooth, dark glass. I cautiously extended my hand, expecting my fingers to come into contact. They didn't. My arm was sunk into the window up to my elbow.

"Freddie..."

"...Sam?"

I shouted in alarm as something pulled me in. I closed my eyes, instinctively bracing for impact. I had impression of tumbling through water that wasn't wet. After a few moments, the falling sensation in my stomach disappeared. I worked up the courage to open my eyes. When I did, I discovered I still couldn't see. Panic rose in the back of my throat. I experimentally waved my hand in front of my face.

Nothing.

"Freddie..."

I began to suffocate, the darkness pressing in on my body. It filled my eyes, eyes, mouth, and nose. I tried to shout.

Silence.

Carl rushes out of the library, shoving the doors open with a bang and causing several startled birds to take to the windy skies. In his left hand, his car keys. In his right hand, a manila folder with one piece of paper neatly tucked inside. The efficiency of such a folder is highly questionable as a single piece of paper is hardly difficult to organize. However, Carl spares himself his idiosyncrasies. Folders are important to him. Especially this one. It contains information, an investigator's favorite thing.

He quickly unlocks his car door and gets in. He shuts the door against the blustery weather, adjusting himself to a more comfortable position. He takes out his briefcase and from that he removes a thicker folder labeled "Freddie Benson." Flipping through a couple pages, he finds a paper marked "Samantha Puckett." On there is a picture of a young blonde girl grinning wildly at the camera. He looks at the paper that is in the folder in his right hand. A corresponding picture along with some extra information. He sighs and dials a number on his cell phone.

"Hey, Kane, can you find me a black Mustang, 60's, license plate number SI5-D3D. Thanks. By the way, you know anyone in New York? The city, yeah...alright. What's the number? 718...212...9136. Okay. Yeah. Thanks again. I owe you big."

"There was a guy who got the whole left side of his body cut off. He nearly died," Gary glances at me, "But now he's all right."

I give him a disparaging look.

"Come on, I know that was funny."

For the past couple days, he's been cracking jokes and puns. I haven't laughed. I can't get over the feeling of doubt that was at the back and is now at the forefront of my mind. I stared at Sam's picture for hours on end, hoping it would tell me something, anything. I tried to tell myself I loved her, I loved the girl in the picture. I loved her slightly messy, long blonde hair. I loved her mischievous smirk. I loved her crass humor, her irresistible freedom, her strange peculiarities. But then it would come back.

The darkness.

And I would ask myself, "Since when?" Since I drove her away? Since I destroyed years of Carly's attempts to gently remove her walls?

The doubt worked its way through my thoughts.

Many would say you never know what you have until it's gone. That's a lie. It's gone now, but I still don't know what I had. Who was Sam? Was she the walls or was she the girl? It all begins to blur together in confusion. I end up with more questions than when I started.

It was simple. I go to New York and rescue. I tell her I love her and hopefully she forgives me and we start our new lives.

Now it's not. I go to New York while avoiding the police and Carl to rescue a girl who I don't really know and I never thought I knew. I either tell her I love her or apologize until my guilt disappears. Then what?

The dream had me waking up in cold sweat. I didn't go back to sleep. I didn't want to suffocate. But now, now I'm choking in the daylight.

"Hello? Yes. Kane said you'd be calling. Yes. Yes. We know. Yes. Of course. We'll be there. What's the address? Mhm...Okay. Thanks...Yep. Thanks for working with us, Carl, the NYPD appreciates your assistance. Good bye."

His phone rang.

"Kane? Where is it? Wisconsin?"

We've stopped. Gary looks out at the span of water that abruptly expanded out from the front tires. The sky is suspiciously bright and cheerful though the wind slightly rocks the car back and forth. The sound of waves crashing against the sheer edge broke its way through the windows.

I look around. "Where are we? How'd we get to the ocean?"

Gary opens the door and steps outside. "Ocean? One spiral into depression and you're already going crazy? We're in Wisconsin, north of Milwaukee. This is a little lake called Lake Michigan."

I also step outside. A strong gust hits me and I grab the car for support. Gary walks to the drop-off and draws in a deep breath, teetering over the rough water below.

"Ah, just breathe it in, Freddie. Breathe it in."

"What?"

"The lake air. Whenever I need to think or just relax, I always go to a lake or, if possible, an ocean. Somewhere with water. There's just something to do with the water, you know, it just clears my head, it makes me feel alive."

He made the exaggerated gesture of shoveling air into his nose.

"Ahhh. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah. Sure."

I lean against the car, kicking the dirt around. Stupid Gary. Stupid doubt. Stupid—

"I'm sorry."

I jerk my head up. He's staring at the lake.

"I'm sorry, I made you all...like this."

I join him at the edge and he glances at me seriously.

"Really."

"You already apologized at the gas station," I point out.

"Yeah, but now I'm apologizing again. For the second thing."

"Thanks. But it doesn't change anything," I sigh and rub my arm for the warmth, "I can't stop thinking about it. What if—what if you're right? What if it was only guilt? What if—Gary, I'm losing my mind, I can't get away from it. I'm beginning to doubt everything I've ever known. You know what I just realized? I realized I don't even think I know the real Sam. I only knew her walls. So if I fell in love, who did I fall in love with?"

"Crap, Freddie, you...you have a point," he pauses, "But I brought you here for a reason. Just breathe in and breathe out. You can't keep thinking like this. Just get your head clear. We'll find out when we get there alright?"

I keep silent.

"Alright?"

"No. I think I'm going back."

A car screeches to a stop, raising a cloud of dust that is whipped away by the wind. A strange apprehension seizes me as I wait for the driver to get out.

He does.

I can almost imagine a tumbleweed blowing by like in those old Westerns. The ones where there's two guys in the street with guns and all the bystanders run into their shops and houses in fear. We don't have guns, but our eyes shoot looks.

"Hey, Carl, how's it going?"

Carl grins and shrugs. The tension is broken. "I'm doing okay," he said. "You?"

"I could be better. Hey, about going back to Seattle—"

Gary chooses this moment to put his hand over my mouth.

"Get in the car, Freddie," he whispers.

I wiggle free, pushing his hand aside. "No. I'm done," turning to Carl, I say, "I want to go home."

He dances a jig giddily. It seems Christmas has come early for him.

"Great! That makes things a lot easier, but, um, any reason why you chose now?"

"I'm tired, Carl. I have no idea what I'm doing anymore."

Gary interrupts. "Look, Carl, Freddie been through a rough time these past few days. He's a little confused. Doesn't know what he's saying, really. Just, be a good investigator and leave us alone for a couple more weeks, eh?"

Carl shakes his head. "No can do, Gary," Gary's eyes shoot wide in surprise, "Oh, yes, I know your name, Gary Williams. I also know that your mom's name is Ivy and she's a lawyer in Colorado. I know your dad's name was Henry. He gave a lot of money away before he was shot. I know everything from your birthday to which hens laid the eggs that you ate for breakfast on the morning of April 12, 1998. Just kidding about that last part, but I'm serious about everything else. As I said, no can do. Freddie has to go home. That's it. No negotiations. No deals. Nothing. Come on, Freddie, playtime is over."

I nod a goodbye to a dumbstruck Gary and I make my way to Carl. Suddenly, halfway across the clearing, something hefts me up and bodily throws me into the Mustang. Before I know it, we peel out of the lot and we're zooming down some road.

"Did...did you just kidnap me?"

Gary chuckles nervously. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Um...why?"

He swerves around an extremely lucky rabbit.

"Because you don't know what you're doing either way. But what you do know is that there's a girl named Sam waiting in New York not in Seattle. You can figure everything else out later."

A conglomeration of things left in my mind. Needed to get it out in order to start the next chapter.

As usual, please report any convention errors. I appreciate it. Oh and please review.

Dedicated to Josh's apartment. May it rest in peace.