Chapter Text
It’s cold. A shiver dances in the wind as it whips around Buck. It’s invisible fingers brush gently along his cheek. Trying to offer comfort, maybe. It’s a nice thought. Having the wind care about his heart breaking.
Rain falls at a steady pace, the sky weeping long after Eddie’s taillights have disappeared. Never has Buck felt such solidarity with the weather.
He stands alone, waiting with futile longing. Deep in the cracks of his heart Buck knows Eddie isn’t going to turn around. Eddie won’t be coming back. His best friend is gone. Driving to Texas with a good chunk of Buck’s heart shoved into the back of the dusty U-Haul. Buck’s left with just enough fragmented pieces to be able to feel the absence echo inside the emptiness within his chest.
Crushed. That’s what this feeling is. Unrelenting pressure pressing down in the form of the word ‘gone.’ It pulverizes the remnants of Buck’s soul relentlessly. Like a wrecking ball. Or a battering ram. Maybe a grenade.
That would be poetic. Ironic, really. How their friendship started is the same way their friendship ends.
Christopher and Eddie weren’t coming back. The family that Buck had chosen, that he had built, left him behind. The place that Buck cherished left in ruins. An empty house that used to feel like home. Another tomb for him to haunt. Just like when Abby left him. People don’t just leave him. They run. Maybe it’s fair. Maybe its Buck’s fault for not expecting it.
The world of ‘before’ is over. Buck can’t continue standing in the street wishing for a better outcome. No. Buck has to build something new. At least he didn’t have to start over from scratch. It isn’t like the night he ran away from Hershey. He still has people to hold onto. Bobby, Maddie, Chimney and Hen. Maybe they’ll help him hold himself together until he can do it on his own.
The wind kicks up. Gusting occasionally, sending thick droplets spiraling. A particularly large raindrop slaps Buck’s cheek, startling him out of the haze in his head. The sun hangs low in the sky and Buck finds himself soaked through and shivering. He blinks again and realizes there’s music playing. His phone. Buck liberates the device from his pocket and sees his sister’s smiling face brightening up the screen.
“Hey, Mads.” Buck greets as he answers her call. Pressing the phone against his ear. His voice is rough, like he spent the afternoon gargling rocks and salt water. He clears his throat. Buck holds back a despondent sigh and tries for a smile. “What’s up?” He doesn’t want to ruin her day because his was shitty.
“Just checking in on you.” Maddie’s voice is filled with warm sympathy. Like a hug. The smile he struggled to paint on cracks, flakes and crumbles. So much for pretending. Maddie has always been able to see right through him with her big sister magic.
“He left me.” Buck chokes on the words, fresh tears mingling with the rain. “He’s gone.”
“I know.” Maddie tells him softly. “Why don’t you come over? We can watch trashy reality TV, and you can drink enough wine for the both of us.” She pauses, waiting for him to reply. When he doesn’t, she sighs. “I don’t think you should be alone right now, little brother.”
“Yeah.” Buck ducks his head, chin to chest. Rain runs like a river off the tip of his nose. Dripping from the soggy curls on his head. “You’re probably right.” If left alone he’d probably stand out in the street for the rest of the night. Longing for what he can’t have. It would be better not to be alone. It would be better to be in a place that feels like home, even if he’ll never truly belong there.
“I’ll open the bottle now. It’ll be ready when you get here.” Maddie promises, then hesitates slightly. “Unless you need your very pregnant sister to come get you?” The offer is presented in a teasing way, but Buck hears the sincerity masked in her voice. She’d come and get him if he asked her.
“You’re only a little bit pregnant.” Buck teases back. Maddie and Chimney haven’t officially announced her pregnancy. It’s still early and Maddie isn’t showing yet. “But, no, I’m not going to make you drive in the rain to come get me.” He blows out a breath and runs his hand over his face. “If I leave now, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” Maddie says lightly. “Any longer and I might have to send out a search party.”
“Jee’s a little too young to drive.” Buck smiles, imagining his niece behind the wheel of Maddie’s car. She’s growing up so fast, but thankfully they won’t have to worry about her being able to drive for a long, long time.
“Jee’s actually at a play date with Mara.” Maddie lets him know. Buck tries not to be too disappointed. Seeing his niece always makes him feel better. “But Jee and Chimney should be home by the time you get here.”
“Well, I guess I better get going.” Buck manages another smile, feeling something close to joy bloom in his chest at the thought of seeing Jee.
Maddie bubbles with laughter. “It would be a crime to keep her waiting. Although she’s probably going to ask you to bake her cookies.”
“Then I hope you have the ingredients. If Jee wants to bake cookies, we’re going to bake cookies.” Buck manages a real smile. “See you soon, Mads. And thanks for looking out for me.”
“Always, little brother.” Maddie tells him.
He ends the call and slowly makes his way over to his Jeep. The smile he managed sliding from his face. Eddie’s house is dark. Utterly lifeless. Soon Buck will move his things in, but the lifelessness—Buck isn’t sure his stuff will fix that. He isn’t sure anything will fix what’s been lost.
But that is a problem for future Buck. Tonight’s Buck is going to go be with his sister, drink her wine and spend time with his favorite niece. And probably Chimney, too.
And maybe, for a little while, he won’t feel like the world is ending.
__
The Han house is dark when Buck pulls up, he’s still upset enough that he doesn’t think much about it. Not until he walks through the front door and hears a gun go off. The sound of it is deafening. Like crashing thunder. He falls back as the impact of the bullet slams into his left shoulder, knocking him against the wall. At first, he’s stunned. Eyes staring at the man holding the gun. Taking in his tall stature and his leather jacket.
Pain erupts through his arm. A cry tearing itself from his lips.
Buck’s right hand moves before his brain can process that he’s been shot, pressing against the river of red pouring from the holes in his left shoulder. One through the front, the exit wound in the back. The pain slithers through him like venom. Buck’s knees give out, back sliding down the wall leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
The pain is thick, stealing the breath from his lungs, or maybe his breath leaves him when the wave of panic hits. Because he’s been shot. Maddie is—
The tall figure looms over him, dark mask covering the majority of the person’s face. His dark blue eyes are intense as he glares down at Buck. “Who the hell are you?” He demands in a deep, angry voice. The sound of it both so incredibly loud and oddly distant. Like Buck is hearing someone scream underwater. Or through glass. He must fade out for a second, he comes to with a ragged scream, the tip of the gun presses into the hand Buck has clasped around the wound. “Are you her husband?” The voice bellows.
“N-no.” Buck chokes out between panting breaths. “Br-brother. I’m h-her little brother.” He turns his head, searching desperately for any sign of his sister. “M-Maddie!” He calls out just before fresh pain rings through his head.
Then—darkness.
__
When Buck wakes later, it’s because of the pulsing pain emanating from his shoulder and bouncing around in his head. It takes him a moment to remember what happened. Eyelids peeling open. He finds himself tied to a chair with a mixture of thick silver tape and scratchy rope.
He glances at his shoulder. The holes the bullet left him with have been generously taped up with a rag stuffed into the wounds. The once white cloth dyed red with his blood. The pressure is painful, but also a good thing. He hasn’t bled out. Whoever the man who shot him is, they don’t want him dead. At least not yet.
Across from him, Maddie is tied to her own high backed dinning room chair—though notably less rope and tape was used. Maybe she could wiggle free. Maybe if she were awake. He checks her over, vision slightly blurry from the blood loss and the hit he took to the head. She doesn’t seem to be injured at all. Which is good. So good. The relief is short lived, however, since they are in serious trouble.
“M-Maddie.” Buck croaks out his sister’s name. “Mads-Maddie! Please.” His voice grows stronger, but his sister’s eyes remain stubbornly closed. Reluctantly, Buck tears his gaze away from his sister to glance around the space they are in. It looks like a dining room, judging by the amount of dust and cobwebs, the house was abandoned a long, long time ago.
Instead of a light bulb, a flashlight has been taped to the light fixture above them. A clever creation dreamed up by their captor. The eerie yellow beam of light adds to the feeling of being trapped in a nightmare. It’s the only light source. All the windows are covered by untold layers of newspaper.
It’s impossible to tell how long it’s been. If it’s still nighttime or if the sun broke the dawn.
Buck strains his ears, trying to listen for the sounds of the city—of people. He’s afraid to call out and accidentally draw the attention of the man who shot him. All he hears is silence. Until a car door shuts somewhere beyond the walls of the decrepit house. Loud like a gunshot shattering the quiet. Loud enough that Buck’s entire body jumps with fear, reigniting the flames of agony in his shoulder and in his head.
A door opens somewhere out of sight as Buck shivers in pain. A figure enters the room, pausing when it notices Buck. “Ah, you’re awake. I was worried I might have hit you too hard.”
Buck shifts his gaze from the masked stranger to refocus on Maddie. “Please.” The plea slips from his lips like a prayer.
“Begging? Already?” The stranger scoffs. Dropping a bag near the entrance of the dining room. It rattles when it hits the wooden floor with a soft thud.
“No.” Buck licks his dry lips and forces himself to look at their kidnapper. “N-no.”
“No?”
“N-not me.” Buck clears his throat and blinks hard, hoping to clear his vision. “I-I’m not begging for me.”
The man straightens his back and glances down at Buck with curiosity brightening his dark blue eyes. “Interesting.” He walks over to Maddie’s helpless form and brushes her hair away from her face. “She is something special, isn’t she? I saw her at the grocery store. Followed her home. I thought I was seeing a ghost. There are so many ghosts, you know.”
Buck didn’t know.
“She’s not a ghost.”
The man’s head snaps in Buck’s direction. “I know that.” He growls, shadowy eyes intense with sudden anger. “I’m not an idiot.”
“I-I didn’t say you were.” Buck breathes out with wide eyes. Quickly realizing that antagonizing the crazy guy who kidnapped him and Maddie is not the best approach. His head throbs in time with his heartbeat. “I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean anything by it.”
The man heaves a few deep breaths before he nods, eyes switching from deadly to almost fond. “I forgive you.” He declares. His attention shifts back to Maddie again, but he keeps his hands to himself. “She looks so much like the others. It wasn’t planned, but I had to take her.”
Others. There had been others. This wasn’t a kidnapping. This guy was a serial killer.
“Please.” Buck whispers desperately. “You-you don’t have to hurt her.”
“I have to hurt someone.” The man shrugs, turning his back on Buck as he returns to his abandoned bag. He reaches into it and pulls out a large kitchen knife. Buck’s heart sinks into the pit of dread in his stomach. He’s running out of time. Maddie is running out of time.
“Hurt me.” Buck implores as the man turns back to him. The knife held loosely in his hand. Buck swallows thickly. “Do-do what you want to m-me. Just, please. Let her go.”
“Her life is worth more than yours?”
“Yes.” There’s no hesitation. No question in Buck’s voice.
The kidnapper steps to stand behind Maddie. His hands reach around her, the blade of the knife dangerously close to her vulnerable throat. The killer’s fingers brush against her exposed neck as he gently pulls her hair out of her face. Maddie’s head tips back against the high back of her chair. A soft sigh escapes her lips, her eyes squeezing tighter before her face relaxes back into sleep.
The killer must have drugged her. It’s the only thing that makes sense. That must be why she is still unconscious.
Buck’s heart flips painfully in his chest. All he wants is to leap free from his chair and pull that guy away from his sister. But he can’t. He’s helpless. All he can do is hope he can convince the guy to let her go and pray that Maddie stays asleep.
“Convince me.” The man offers as the blade of the knife rests at the base of Maddie’s throat.
“W-what?” Buck’s voice breaks.
“Convince me to spare her life.” The man repeats, voice a bit sharper. Impatient. Unstable. A ticking time bomb waiting to detonate.
“She’s my big sister. She-she’s always looked out for me. Always.” Except for the three times she left him behind. Now wasn’t the time to think of that though. Buck shakes his head, clearing the thought from it.
“She’s my sister, but she’s more than that. She raised me. Our parents—she did what they should have done. She didn’t have a childhood because she was busy looking after me. But she still turned out so, so kind. She married a monster when she was younger, but she escaped and found the love of her life. A good man. The best man. She has a daughter. A beautiful little girl whose smile is pure joy. M-Maddie, she’s pregnant. Her daughter deserves to meet her sibling. To have a happy, normal family. Her husband, God, losing her will crush him. Please.”
“Pregnant.” The killer curls the word with his tongue in a tone of disgust. He releases Maddie and steps away from her, moving closer to Buck. “Fine.” The man says stopping before Buck, blocking the view of his sister. Buck tries not to panic. The killer plays absentmindedly with the knife in his hands. “You’ve given a reasonable argument of why she should live. Now, tell me, why should you die?”
For a second, Buck is thrown back out onto the street in front of Eddie’s house. Eddie’s former house. The house Buck is supposed to rent. To live in. The rain is falling and he’s alone. Always alone. Always left behind.
“I should already be dead.” Buck lets the words spill out of his heart. All the pain he’s kept locked away breaking free. “I-I wouldn’t have even been born if my b-brother didn’t have juvenile leukemia. I was made to save him. Designed especially for him. Spare parts, you know? And I couldn’t even do that right. It didn’t work and he died anyway, and my parents have always hated me for it. They may not have said the words out loud, but I know they blamed me. The way they’ve treated me my whole life says it all. Like I am this unlovable disappointment.” Things were better, sort of, but this guy didn’t need to know that. “The universe has had it out for me since day one. I-I nearly died a dozen times as a kid. Reckless. Then I got crushed by a ladder truck.”
“Bullshit.” The guy snarls, stalking forward his knife slashing dangerously through the air. “Stop lying!”
“I-I’m not lying. It’s true! It’s Google-able information!” Buck cries out, stopping the man in his tracks. “A bomber was gunning for my boss and got me instead. I nearly lost my leg. That’s not all—I survived the tsunami, a pulmonary embolism. I got struck by lightning!”
“No, you’re lying. I’ll kill you both for lying to me.” The killer points the tip of the knife beneath Buck’s chin. “Slowly. I’ll tear you apart piece by piece and make your sister watch.”
“I promise you, I’m not lying.” Buck doesn’t flinch as he stares into the man’s eyes. He can’t risk blinking. “I have scars! My right hand, that’s where the lightning struck. There’s raised white lines—like webbing. And my leg is all scarred up from all the surgeries to fix it. I have them on my chest too, from both the lightning and the embolism. I’m not lying!”
The killer storms behind Buck. For a moment, nothing happens. Buck half expects the knife to reach around and slice his throat. Then, surprisingly gentle fingers brush across the web like scars on Buck’s hand. There’s a soft noise, a small gasp of delight. “Beautiful.” The killer says with reverence that twists wrongly in Buck’s stomach.
“You’d be doing the universe a favor by killing me.” Buck urgently continues as the man walks back to stand before him. “My sister is the only person who’ll mourn me for more than a week.” That is a lie. It leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. He knows Bobby will be heartbroken if-when he dies. He knows it. Chimney and Hen too, maybe not to the same degree, but they’d feel it. At least, he thinks they’d feel it.
Resolutely, Buck refuses to think about how Eddie would react. Let alone Christopher.
Then again, they had already left Buck behind. They were going to forget about him eventually.
“Do whatever you want to me. I won’t fight you—or I can, if you want me to. If that’s what you want, I’ll fight you just enough, but I won’t win. You can have complete control over me. I’ll do whatever you ask. Just, please, don’t kill my sister.”
“Complete control.” The man savors the words. “You’ll do anything I say?”
“Anything.” Buck repeats, not breaking eye contact with the masked man. “Anything you want, please.”
The man leans back, circling Maddie again. “Okay, I’ll humor you for a moment. Let’s pretend I’ll accept this deal. What exactly do you suggest I do with your sister?”
“Set her free. You don’t have to do anything.” Buck doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s strong—she’ll find her way home. She hasn’t seen your face. She doesn’t know who you are or even that you have me. Just let her go. Take me somewhere else. Cut her free and leave her here and I’ll go with you.”
The stranger hums and tips his head back and forth in consideration. “No.”
“No?” Hope dies in Buck’s chest as he sags against his restraints.
“Well, maybe.” The man is painfully casual as Buck’s heart leaps into his throat.
“I’ll do whatever you want, just, please.” Buck sobs out the last word, eyes burning with unshed tears.
“A vow.” The man leans uncomfortably close to Buck. The knife brushes against his neck, lightly scratching across the top layer of Buck’s skin. The man’s cold blue eyes hold Buck’s full attention. “That’s what I require. Sell me your allegiance.”
Buck stares back at the killer, unable to fully process what is being asked of him. He sees a flash of anger dance in the stranger’s gaze. He's impatient. Unpredictable. Fear pours into Buck's chest as he realizes he might not get a second chance at this. He has to make this count. “I vow to give you complete control over the remainder of my life. My body is yours to destroy—so long as you let my sister live and return safely to her family.”
His kidnapper visibly shivers in delight, his free hand reaching out, fingers brushing across Buck’s cheek before gliding up and wrapping themselves up in his curls. Buck’s head is yanked back violently, his neck on display. The tip of the knife held in his kidnapper’s other hand hovers in front of Buck’s right eye. Buck waits for it to plunge forward. Into his eyeball and then his brain. It lingers there for a terrifying moment before the blade drifts back down, glancing threateningly over vulnerable skin before it rests at the base of Buck’s neck.
“I accept your offer.” The man says when Buck doesn’t pull away or break eye contact. “On a trial basis. If you can obey my instructions, your sister will live. Nod if you understand.”
Without hesitation, without blinking, Buck nods his head ever so slightly. He ignores the sting as the tip of the knife slices into his skin. Blood tickles, dripping from the shallow nick and pooling down into the hollow of his throat. It barely registers under the brewing fear. He has one chance to save his sister. Buck can’t screw this up.
“From here on out, you will not speak unless given explicit permission.” The man tells him as the knife is pulled away from Buck’s neck. “Nod if you understand.” Buck nods. “Good. Now, to give you further incentive to follow instructions.” He pulls back, walking back over to the bag that had produced the knife.
“I’m going to make a vow to you.” He sets the knife down on the ground and reaches into the bag, pulling out a revolver and a handful of bullets. He rolls the cylinder out, casually slipping bullets into each slot of the chamber, maintaining eye contact with Buck as he speaks. “If you disobey me—if you don’t do exactly what I tell you to do, I will shoot you and take your sister somewhere no one will find her. There, I will break her to the point where she will agree to take her own life to make the pain end. When she’s dead, I’ll find her husband and her daughter and repeat the process with them and anyone else who ever had the misfortune of being loved by you.”
With a flick of his wrist, the cylinder clicks back into place. The gun is fully loaded. Waiting. The killer pauses, tilting his head as he locks eyes with Buck. “Nod if you understand.”
Buck nods, his entire body trembling. He can’t let anything happen to his sister, let alone Chimney or Jee. He can’t screw this up. He can do this. Whatever is necessary. He’ll do it. There is no other option.
“Good.” The killer says picking the knife up off the ground and uses it to cut through the rope and tape binding Buck to the chair. Buck doesn’t dare move. He waits silently for instructions. “Good.” The killer repeats and holds out the knife, offering Buck the handle. Fear spikes and again, Buck waits for verbal permission. A smile lights in the killer’s eyes, hidden behind the mask. “Good. Take the knife and cut your sister free. If you do anything else, I will consider it you breaking your vow.”
Gingerly Buck takes the knife, his hands vibrating with his growing anxiety. A flash of rebellion rings through his head. A thought, brief and dangerous, that he might be able to attack the killer before the killer can react. The risk is too great. The thought of his sister being tortured and then Chimney and Jee being in danger—Buck can’t risk it. On shaky legs Buck stands and moves to Maddie’s side. Gently, carefully he cuts through the rope and tape. Once his sister is free from her bindings, he looks to the killer for further direction.
“Set the knife on the ground.”
Buck leans over and places the knife on the ground beside him. His head rushes, the world tilting ever so slightly. He rises back to a standing position and tries not to appear as dizzy as he feels.
“Gather your sister in your arms.” The killer says. “We’re going for a drive.”
Without hesitation, Buck gathers up his sister’s limp body. She moans a little as he lifts her into a bridal style hold. Her weight strains the wound in his shoulder. The pain is jarring. Pulsing through his shoulder, down his arm and up his neck into his chest and head. His ears buzz with his racing heartbeat and Buck clenches his jaw to keep from making a sound. He’s not allowed to talk anymore. He can’t risk making a sound and ruining his chance to save Maddie.
It hurts.
It burns.
Blood gushes down the front of his shirt, soaking the makeshift bandage.
He focuses on the killer’s gleaming eyes. “Step in front of me, I’ll direct you out of the house. There is a car in the driveway. It is unlocked. You and your sister will sit on the passenger side of the backseat. Your hands will be within my sight at all times.” He tips his head to the side. “Nod if you understand.”
Buck nods. The pain is incredible. Somehow, he manages to step forward. The back of his neck tingling at the feeling of the muzzle of the gun pressed into the small of his back. Time blurs. He finds himself cradling Maddie in the back seat of a Sedan.
It’s still nighttime, Buck notes. Though he has no idea how long he had been unconscious for. He thinks it’s the same night. Maybe only a handful of hours since they were taken from the house. Maddie hasn’t woken up. It worries him, but he’s also grateful. As long as she sleeps he can keep her safe. If she wakes up, the killer might never let her go.
Buck’s eyes fixed on the gun trained on the two of them. The killer uses one hand to drive them away from the abandoned house and back into the city. They don’t go far. It’s maybe a ten minute drive. He pulls over and puts the car in park under the glow of a streetlight. The killer doesn’t shut off the engine.
“Now, you’re going to step out of the car and place your sister on the grass under that tree.” The killer indicates the tree with his hand, keeping the gun low and steady—out of sight if there happens to be anyone passing by. “Once she is settled, come back to the window, I’ll have something else for you to give her.”
Fear spikes again, it must show on his face because the killer chuckles. “Nothing bad, I promise.”
Promises from this man will always be considered something bad.
Buck nods mutely and, with permission, he carries Maddie out of the car and lays her with the utmost care among the dry grass underneath the tree. His knee pops as he stands. Stiffly he returns to the car and the killer hands him a folded slip of paper. “Stick that in her pocket. I’m sure she’ll want to know what kind of sacrifice you’ve made for her. When you are done, return to the car and sit in back like before. Rest your hands on the headrest of the seat in front of you and lower your head.”
With another nod, Buck can’t help but think how he doesn’t want his sister to know any of this. He wants her to be safe. Her life to be easy and happy. But, most of all, he wants her to live. This is part of the deal. Obedience until the bitter end.
Silently Buck walks back to his slumbering sister and kneels gracelessly at her side. His head is dizzy again. The loss of blood and pain is getting to him. With uncoordinated fingers, he slips the note in Maddie’s pocket. Gently he brushes loose strands of her hair out of her face. It takes all of his strength and determination to stand and turn away from her for the last time.
Buck slides carefully into the back seat. Shutting the door and placing his hands on the headrest of the seat in front of him. Silently he lowers his head, waiting for whatever happens next.
“Lift your left hand off the headrest and swallow these.” Is the command. Buck holds out the palm of his left hand and three white pills are deposited by the killer. For the first time Buck hesitates. Lips part, mind begging to ask the question—what are these? But, quickly enough, Buck realizes it doesn’t matter. He won’t be alive long enough to worry about any lingering effects from unknown drugs. He throws the pills into the back of his throat, struggling to swallow them dry.
“Good.” Comes the sick praise. “Place your hand back on the headrest.” Buck does. The man sets the gun aside and produces a pair of silver handcuffs, expertly wrapping them around each of Buck’s wrists and through the headrest. The drugs are fast acting, whatever they are. The edges around Buck’s vision quickly turning to static like fuzz. It’s harder to keep his eyelids open. Blinking becomes a struggle as his head leans forward, resting his forehead against the back of the seat in front of him.
“Good.” He hears the sharp smile in the killer’s voice. A hand pets Buck’s head gently, fingertips scratching through his curls. “Oh, my dear little Brother. You and I are going to have so much fun together.”
The hand withdrawals and Buck feels the car start to pull forward. Driving away from Maddie as his world fades to dark.