(Buck)

Carefully, holding his breath, his palms flat against the wall behind him, Buck lowered himself back down to the floor, ever mindful of the puncture in his back. At least for now the bleeding had stopped, crusted along the edges, and he hoped it stayed that way. Less risk of bleeding out. Though the fear of infection remained high. Every now and then he eyed the bottles of water, wondering if he could flush the wound but telling himself the angle was all wrong and he'd likely do more damage than good.

Besides, all the moving around is iffy enough.

A person could sit for only so long before their butt started to go numb and their back ached, like his needed in help in that department. Pacing his small cell got the blood flowing through his legs, waking up his limbs, and giving his mind something else to focus on. He took to pacing the confines of the four walls, trailing his fingers along behind him, getting a real feel for the place.

Metal.

He was surrounded by metal.

A glance at the ceiling revealed what appeared to be a vent, most likely to allow in oxygen. If I scream out will anyone hear me? Where the hell even am I? Is anyone looking for me? One of the shorter wall was comprised of what appeared to be a rolling door, like those used for garages. Buck crouched, grabbing at the base and trying to heft it up.

Nothing.

Of course. It's never that easy.

Buck picked up a pad of paper and a pen, both of which he found squirreled away behind the water. His kidnapper gave him a final way to say his peace, should it come down to it. How many days have gone by? Who was the first to notice I was missing? Buck? Maddie? Eddie? Absently, he swirled the pen around in circles, his mind wandering. Alone with his thoughts, had he ever been in such a position before? Sure, when he got struck by lightning and found himself in a place between—he refused to think of it as Purgatory—he confronted a number of things, like how his parents treated him and the death of a brother he never knew. But had he truly been alone with his thoughts?

And what were his thoughts?

Buck scribbled on the page, the scratch of pen against paper competing with his breathing to be the loudest sound in the room.

My Dearest Maddie,

You are easily the strongest person I know. You took care of me growing up, more a mom to me than our actual mom. You ran from Doug, not once but twice, and beat him in the end. I know you're still troubled by the actions of that day, but remember, you're a survivor. You came out the other side the only way you could because the alternative was way worse. Stronger than ever, you defeated your monster, and when the universe sent you another one, you squashed it, too, and then came back to us. To me. You've always faced the monsters, even when you break, you still stare them down.

I wish I was a fraction of the person you are. I'm so blessed to call my sister and my friend.

Seeing you with Chimney, the happiness he brings you, I'll be forever grateful the two of you are together. I only wish I'd found a similar love all my own. Maybe in another life.

Please don't blame yourself for any of this, Maddie, it's not your fault. I wish I made it to dinner with you and Gee. Give her a big hug and kiss for me.

Love always and forever,

Buck

Buck tore the page from the pad, folded it, and scrawled Maddie on it before setting it aside. Getting it out proved to be cathartic. Obviously, the things he wrote to his sister he wished more than ever to say in person. You don't know what you've got until its gone, isn't that how the saying goes? And chances are he'd have used the entire pad of paper to reminisce on their adventures, bring up memories of good and bad times. Maybe even share a few dreams of his currently in-limbo future. But there were other. Who to write next?

Eddie,

First and foremost, I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart for my actions while drunk. Some people believe the things you say and do under the influence of alcohol are who you really are, and I suppose to some degree it's true. Tommy helped me to see the real me, the one I kept buried deep inside. He set that Buck free, opened my eyes, helped me to stop denying how I felt.

He also helped me understand it's you I love. That's why we amicably parted ways. I thought you had a right to know, but now I realize confessing my feelings was selfish. It was more for me than you, and I blame myself wholeheartedly for living in a fantasy.

You deserve better. Christopher deserves better. I hope you both find your happiness. I hope she sweeps you off your feet and is everything you've dreamed of and more. I'd have given a killer best man speech, by the way, especially since I never got to for Maddie and Chim.

Thanks for being the greatest friend a guy could ever hope to have.

Always,

Buck

As he'd done with Maddie's letter he did with Eddie's. He swiped a hand over his brow, realizing a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. Either his little prison was heating up or he was starting to run a fever, a bad sign, a warning of the infection he feared. What dis that guy stick me with? Better yet, who the hell is he? He'd searched his memories, failing to pull up any trace of a conversation passing between them. He saw vividly the encounter in the parking lot and how he got in his car, but between there and here, it all got scrambled.

Hopefully, Athena and Bobby, anyone else looking for him, turned up better clues. Otherwise he was as good as gone.

Buck reached for a bottle, twisting off the cap. He took down half of it in one swallow., then set it aside.

Pen tip back on the page he began writing again

Bobby…