(Hen)

The longer she stared at the numbers on the bedside clock the more aware of the passing seconds she became. Each tick dug the knife of guilt a little deeper. Hen replayed the dinner over and over in her mind, wondering what she could have said or done differently to result in a better outcome. Leaving out the wine, I'd start there. Maybe then, maybe just then…

"Hen, sweetheart? Are you still awake?"

"How can I sleep knowing he's out there somewhere obviously injured and it's my fault," she grumbled, more a statement than a legit question.

There came the rustling of fabric, the bed jostling and with a click soft light chased shadows towards the boundaries of the room. Karen placed a comforting hand on her arm. "Is that what you think, that this is your fault? Since when do you blame yourself for Buck's actions, for his choices?"

"Since I'm the one who extended the invitation, the one who plied him with alcohol to get him to talk."

"We both know, deep down, regardless of whether he accepted dinner with us his plan and his mind were already made-up. I love Buck as much as the rest of you, but let's be honest, he's a bit of a loose cannon. Once he makes up his mind there's no stopping him. All you can really do is stand by and help pick up the pieces in the aftermath. Something all of you have gotten good at."

Despite the kernel of truth spoken by her wife, Hen continued to think of things she might have done differently, like making him sleep off the alcohol on their couch instead of letting him out the door, sending him on his way and starting things in motion.

If only I made him stay.

(Maddie)

"Maddie, are you out here?"

At The sound of Chimney's voice, Maddie sniffled, quickly trying to dash away her tears with a brush of her hand.

"Oh Maddie." Chimney joined her out on the porch, sinking down on the bench beside her. Effortlessly, he drew her into his embrace and she melted into him, wrapping her arms around him as best she could, resting her head against his shoulder. They stayed that way a while, no words spoken. Try as she might to keep them at bay fresh tears welled in her eyes and followed familiar tracks down her cheeks.

Eventually she found her voice. "Why does it seem like bad things keep following Buck and I? Are we bad people? Are we being punished in some way?" In a quieter tone, verging on a whisper, she added, "is this some sort of universal payback for killing Doug?"

"No," Chimney said with such conviction. "You stop that train of thought right now. Unfortunately, in the world we live in and with the jobs we do bad things happen. It's not your fault, it's not Buck's, it's not mine, that's just the way of the world. Besides, everything always works out in the end. Athena will find him in time.

"And if she-"

"She will. Have faith."

She sat up, locking eyes with the man who stole her heart, the one she always dreamed of when she was growing up, the one she occasionally wondered if she deserved. He chased her across the country try, his love ran so deep, and to be granted a love like that… She smiled. "How did I get so lucky to find you?"

"Buck."

"I've never thanked him."

"You'll have time."

She settled back against the seat, returning her head to his shoulder. "I wish I'd dragged him to a late lunch before getting his car. At least then I'd have a better idea of what's going on in his head. He'd still be here."

"Please stop beating yourself up, Maddie. If there's one thing I've learned about Buck over the years it's that he's a fighter. He'll come back to you, to us."

(Eddie)

The house should have been quiet, but Christopher chatted enthusiastically with a few friends via the video game he was playing. All throughout dinner Eddie struggled with how to tell his son about the goings on with Buck. The part of him that wanted to protect Christopher from all the horrors in the world said to stay quiet. The logical side, however, pointed out that Christopher might ask to hang out or have dinner with Buck, leaving Eddie to then come clean at that moment. Besides what does lying to my son get me in the long run? What if this time we actually lose him?

Finishing up the last of the after dinner clean up, Eddie left the dish towel near the sink and gathered his courage for the potentially difficult conversation ahead.

He stepped Into the living room. "Hey bud, can you pause your game a moment? There's something I want to talk to you about."

"Sure." Christopher let his friends know he'd be away a few minutes. "What's up, dad?"

Eddie settled on the coffee table facing his son, hands clasped in front. "Well…" How do I say it? "You know how risky my job is, right, and that there are bad people in the world?"

"Is Buck okay?"

Eddie was taken aback by the question. Granted, Buck did wind up in the hospital a fair deal. "What? Why do you ask?"

"Because we were supposed to play last night and he never showed. He didn't answer my texts either. Is he mad at me?"

"Oh, no, no, definitely not. Something's happened and I don't have all the details. All I know right now is that Buck is missing."

"Missing?"

"Yes. But I promise, Bobby and Athena are looking for him, and you know they won't stop until they find him."

I should have let him stay here. Let him sleep off the alcohol and talked in the morning when he was clear headed. He might still be here. Screw Bobby, this is my fault. I rejected him and now… I need him here. For me. For Christopher. For Bobby.

Christopher put a hand on his arm. "It's okay, dad. Buck is always okay."

I hope so.

(Athena)

"Sergeant Grant, you're still here?"

Athena glanced over her shoulder, tearing her gaze away from the photo montage featuring glimpses of her life, of the lives of those she loved. Time ceased to track while she drank it all in, the gravity of the situation weighing ever heavier on her shoulders, pressing down the importance of finding Buck or watching her world collapse around her. For she held little doubt about the consequences of Buck's death should it come about. Like a too dry cookie their lives would crumble. It's crazy how one stubborn loveable fool has infiltrate our lives so much. How he became the glue keeping us all together.

"Athena, are you okay?" Elaine momentarily touched her arm.

Athena blinked, once again focusing on the photos, desperate to find some trace, any clue that might lead them to Buck. Dead or alive. "I'm worried," she said.

"Understandable, he's a good friend."

"To my husband he's more than that," she said, offering a level of vulnerability she usually reserved for the comfort of her home, expressed to people like Bobby and Hen. "He's already lost so much I'm afraid what losing Buck will do to him."

"We haven't lost him yet. Everyone is keeping an eye out for him and his abductor. Hospitals are on alert," Elaine said. "You'll be the second person to know if he turns up, after me of course."

"I pray we find him sooner rather than later. Buck's a fighter, and so is Bobby, but even they have their limits."

"Athena." They locked eyes. "We will find him. You have my word. I will return Buck to you."

(Bobby)

The din of conversation battled with the sports game on one TV and some sports report on another. Hidden speakers filtered the tunes of a classic rock station, adding to the cacophony, a little entertainment for those sequestered to the booths. Gloomy described the level of light, after all, who wanted to see how far they'd fallen, who they were slumming with? Bottles glittered with liquids varying shades of brown and amber, some clear, and the beast within yearned to taste them, to feel the bittersweet droplets dance across his tongue.

Remember the euphoria, it whispered, remember how it took away all the pain and how the world ceased to exist?

Bobby threaded his way through the crowd, praying he'd gone far enough away as to avoid anyone who might know him. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted in a place such at this, where demons lingered in shadows and welcomed those who crossed the threshold with open arms.

He found an empty stool at the bar, claiming it as his own.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked. He sported a haze of stubble with a tattoo of what appeared to be spider legs creeping up the side of his neck from under his shirt collar.

"Whiskey."

In a flash the glass appeared before him, his poison contained within. Bobby wrapped his hand around the tumbler, drawing it closer. He picked it up, slowly swirling the alcohol, mesmerized by the way it moved around, picking up traces of its earthy aroma.

Taste it, purred the demon, you know you want to.

Bobby brought the glass to his lips.

His phone vibrated in his back pocket. Buck. The single name slipped across his mind, breaking the spell. He yanked the device free with a wing of hope, which died when he saw Tommy's name on the screen. Still, it was enough and Bobby threw a few bucks on the bar and made way for the door.