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EDDIE
“It doesn’t have to change a thing between us,” Buck said.
“But what if it did?” Eddie replied.
Thank God he did, because after the night in Oklahoma, things were changing for the better. After another four borders crossed and 17 more hours together on the road, Eddie falls harder by the second. Everything he ever wants sits mere inches to his right in the passenger seat, the open road of possibilities ahead of them.
Soon, his days of being a single dad will come to an end, and his family will grow. Christopher wasn’t as shocked to hear of their recent romantic developments as Eddie would’ve thought, but apart from him, they agreed to tell the others in person.
For now, they can enjoy the peace of each other’s company and the few hours they have left with their secret.
Little did he know that it could all be taken away in an instant.
Eddie focuses on the road, listening to Buck go on about random highway facts.
“Did you know that if the interstate ends in a zero, it runs east to west, and if it ends in a five, it runs north to south?” He’s so cute when he rambles on about nothing.
“I guess I did. Maybe not explicitly, but it makes sense,” Eddie gives him an agreeing nod.
Buck doesn’t miss a beat. “And if the highway starts with an even number, it’ll reconnect to one of the major interstates, but if it ends in an odd number, it never does.”
Google Maps has them staying on I-40 for another… 250 or so miles, Eddie reads. He hates to admit that technology has made cross-country travel a lot easier than when he first learned to drive. If Buck had a map, though, it would be fun to figure it out the old-fashioned way together.
He can’t wait to see what adventures they get into.
Buck’s infatuation with the American highway system fills the car with more energy than any amount of caffeine could. Eddie holds onto each word from Buck’s mouth like water in his hands.
Underneath the joy, the dooming feeling that something so good can’t possibly last forever lingers.
It’s been two days; get over it. Enjoy yourself for once.
The next second, Buck is tossing cheeseballs in his mouth. It reminds Eddie that the bagel he had this morning isn’t enough to keep him full for the whole day.
He opens his mouth, and Buck understands his request without any verbal exchange. One, two, three in a row! They’re pretty good at this.
“Keep going,” Eddie says with a mouthful. “Let’s see how many I can catch.”
“You just want to eat all my cheese balls,” Buck says with faux-annoyance. Eddie gives him an admissible look. “Fine.”
There’s a jolt from behind, and the cheese ball goes flying past Eddie’s head and hits the window. Some jackass in a lifted truck has been tailgating them since they left Flagstaff. Eddie hadn’t put much thought toward the possibility of aggression…until now.
He takes a better look in the rearview mirror, but he cringes at the blinding headlights. “What the hell? Did he lovetap me?”
Buck sits up in his seat and flips around. “What’s this guy’s problem?”
Eddie steers into the left lane to escape, but the truck follows him closely behind.
“Let him pass, Eddie,” Buck advises, the tension increasing under the surface.
“I’m trying. He won’t let up.”
There’s another clang from behind, more devastating than the last, and the wheel slips from Eddie’s grasp.
“Shit!” He locks his hands into position, but it’s too late. They’re already veering for the side of the road.
“Eddie, watch out!” Buck screams and clutches Eddie’s bicep.
Time slows down. The car lurches through the ditch with a thud! and shoots up the other side. Eddie sees the sunset over the desert horizon. The deep oranges and vibrant pinks flip in his vision, a complete 180°. Suddenly, the ground is on top of them.
That doesn’t feel right.
They’re upside down. They’re midair, and the car is upside down.
Buck’s fist still clenches around Eddie’s arm, the sharp ends of his nails digging into his skin through the thick fabric of his jacket. They thrash side to side, seatbelts doing little to stop the effects of gravity and inertia.
Eddie’s head vigorously smashes against the window more than once. His vision grows spotty, and it’s even more difficult now to orient himself in his seat.
What the fuck just happened?
He attempts to shake off the sharp pain, but it's no use. When he opens his eyes, the ground grows closer and closer. It’s coming in so quick, Eddie doesn’t even have time to brace for—
Eddie blinks himself awake. There’s an intense weight pressing down on his chest, tight and firm, and his head feels like it weighs a million pounds.
The car landed sideways, he makes out, so his door is pressed against the ground, smashed inward. The glass from his window is littered across his shirt and in his hair. There are cuts up and down his arm, and a warm liquid drips across his eyelid.
With a painful inhale, he recenters himself. He can’t get out through the window, and he can’t climb over the dashboard with the airbag deployed, so his only option is…
Buck.
Eddie scrambles in his seat, cutting himself free from his seatbelt with his spare pocketknife.
His vision is still hazy, the world still spins, but he can make out Buck in the passenger's seat. His fingers rest against Eddie’s seat from where he latched onto, but they’re limp in their hold.
“Buck, wake up!” Eddie screams, using one arm to shake him awake. “Come on!”
I can’t lose you. Not now.
There’s blood spilling from small cuts on Buck’s forehead, but from what Eddie can tell, the glass missed any arteries on his neck. He reaches two fingers to check for a pulse, but the movement triggers a dizzy spell starting at the front of his skull.
The spinning extends down to his stomach, and it forces him to swallow down his own puke.
He pins his eyelids into their upright position and places his fingers on Buck’s neck. It takes a second too long to find a pulse, but he finds one nonetheless.
Eddie releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“Buck, please,” he begs. There’s no way to get out of the car with Buck unconscious.
His vision blackens around the edges, but he fights to remain conscious. He has to call someone. Yeah, call for help. Help will come and get them out.
Where are they? Somewhere on the I-40? The California border sign must’ve been what? Thirty miles back? The pounding in his head makes it hard to focus. All the details are muddled.
Where’s his phone? It was up on the dashboard before the crash. He fumbles around for it, but it's so dark it's difficult to see his own hands in front of him, let alone a little black box. Shit, how long was he out?
His heartbeat echoes against his eardrums. Each breath is tighter than the last, and he still can’t find his phone. Where is his phone?
Eddie’s ears perk up to the sound of crunching from outside the car.
“Help!” Eddie calls out. The footsteps grow louder, closer. Someone saw them drive off the road. Someone’s here to help. He manages to pound against the roof of the car. “Help us!”
A shadowy figure pops its head over Buck’s window, but a blinding light forces Eddie to turn away. If it was too dark before, it’s too bright now. Somehow, that’s worse for him because the headache increases tenfold. The slightest hint of vanilla drifts in and out of the car with the wind.
“Get him out first,” he instructs the…police officer? Highway patrol? Civilian? It doesn’t matter, as long as Buck gets to safety.
The door thrusts open a moment later, and the relief washes over Eddie. Any adrenaline he had left leaves his body the second Buck’s out of the car.
He can rest easy knowing they’re getting the help they need. They’re alive. That’s the important part. Whatever comes after, they’ll deal with it like they always have, together. He gives in to the exhaustion, and the world falls away.
It’s too bright. Why is it so goddamn bright in here? The lights are white, the walls are white, and the bedsheets are white too. Do any other colors exist?
“Where…?” He flexes every muscle in an attempt to lift himself from the bed. He tightens his grip against the sheets. They’re cool to the touch, sterile almost.
A hand catches his arm to stop him from sitting up. A small voice in his head tells him to trust it, so he does. Eddie settles back into the soft pillow under his head.
“Mr. Diaz, you were in an accident. You’re in the hospital,” a female voice supplies an answer, a nurse by the looks of it.
“Bu—“ His tongue can’t form the word, the name. Buck.
“There’s a detective here,” the nurse explains. “He wants to ask you some questions. Are you okay with that?”
A detective? Why would there be a detective here if they got run off the road by a crazy driver? These things happen all the time, Eddie figures. Plus, they’re both alive, so it’s not like they’re hunting someone down for manslaughter.
They are both alive, right?
His head clears with the thought. “Buck,” he finally gets out. “Evan Buckley. Where is he?”
“I-I’m sorry,” she begins.
No. No, don’t apologize. Don’t apologize if it means he’s dead. He can’t be dead. I saw him get pulled out of the car. He had a pulse. He was alive before I passed out. I made sure he was alive.
He’s not dead.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she continues. Eddie crooks his neck, not expecting that response. “No one else was brought in with you.”
She gives him a pitiful look. She must think he’s confused, but he’s not. He knows Buck was pulled out alive. Eddie made sure of it.
He determines she’s not going to be of any help.
“Can I speak with the detective?” He asks, now finding an interest in the apparent investigation.
“Of course,” she offers a solemn smile. “You sit tight. I’ll grab him.”
Like he has a choice.
The detective enters, and they exchange pleasantries, but Eddie chomps at the bit to get his questions answered.
“How about my Bu—friend? How is he?” He rattles them off.
The detective sighs and opens the file in his hand. “As far as we’re aware, there was no one else in the car with you.”
That makes absolutely no sense.
“I can assure you there was.” Eddie tries to be calm and communicative, but he’s starting to feel insane. Why does no one know where Buck is? Why does no one know who Buck is? “I was driving back to L.A. from Nashville with my partner Evan Buckley.”
Someone was there to help them. He saw a pair of arms pull Buck out of the car to rescue him. They were safe, by all accounts.
“What exactly do you remember, Mr. Diaz?”
“Everything,” he states blankly. He pieces the trip back together slowly. He’s concussed, surely, but not confused. “Where is Buck?”
“Do you know how long you’ve been here? What day is it?”
Is this a trick question? Some sort of test to make sure Eddie’s a reliable witness?
“It’s Saturday.” Eddie narrows his eyes, as if the answer is obvious.
The detective sighs. “Mr. Diaz, you’ve been unconscious for three days. It’s Monday.”
Three days.
He’s been in the hospital for three days, and Buck…hasn’t? How the hell did he possibly end up here without Buck?
Buck isn’t here, and this detective seems to think he was never in the car in the first place. There was no evidence of another person in the car. It’s as if he vanished without a trace.
What’s the rule? Eddie searches his brain. A few months ago, Buck was on a big True Crime kick and forced Eddie to binge-watch a bunch of documentaries and 20/20s with him.
An alarm goes off.
Something like 70% of missing people are found within 72 hours, but the odds of finding them alive drop significantly after the first 24.
They’re on day three, and Eddie’s only now waking up.
They’re on day three, and the investigation appears to be going nowhere.
They’re on day three, and Buck’s dead.
Buck’s dead, and it’s his fault. He drove them off the road. The car flipped because of his loose hands. If he had focused on driving for one fucking minute, they would’ve gotten away from the tailgater. They would’ve let him pass and driven on for hours, laughing and joking.
Buck would’ve continued talking his ear off, and Eddie would’ve continued to listen.
Eddie wouldn’t be in this bed, this detective wouldn’t be looking at him like he’s crazy, and Buck wouldn’t be dead.
The room around him creases at the edges. His heart rate monitor beeps rapidly, displaying what Eddie’s already feeling in his chest cavity. In a split second, he went from the top of the world to tumbling down the mountain in one violent swing of fate.
That image of his perfect family, Eddie, Christopher, and Buck, the Buckley-Diaz clan, erases like a pencil sketch, leaving behind only an echo of what could’ve been.
“What the Hell is going on in here?” Athena barges into the room. Wait, Athena? “I told you to get me the second he woke up.”
“Respectfully, Sergeant, this is my case, and Eddie’s my witness.” The detective stands his ground. He has no idea what he’s up against.
“Respectfully, Detective, Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley are my responsibility, and I have a right to be at his side to hear your questions. What did you say to him?” She moves over to Eddie’s bedside and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“I told him no one else was in the car when we found him,” the Detective explains.
“Whoa, wait, that’s not exactly what you said.” Eddie catches. “You said you were under the impression that I was the only one in the car, as if I was making up Buck’s entire existence.”
The Detective stutters through a response.
“You’re scaring him half to death.” Athena waves a stern finger. “Get the Hell out and let me talk to him.”
She extends a hand to take the file, and, begrudgingly, the Detective accepts her request. He departs the room, and the air settles ever so slightly.
“Athena, has it really been three days?” The Detective, he couldn’t trust, but with Athena here, their chances of finding Buck increase exponentially. If anyone's going to fight to bring him home as hard as Eddie will, it's her.
The state in which he returns home, which is still up for debate, sends a terrifying chill up Eddie’s spine.
“It has,” her voice is soft, but not pitiful. She isn’t afraid to give it to him straight.
“Is he dead?” Eddie’s voice breaks at the end, but he has to know. “Is Buck dead?”
She purses her lips together, taking the time to choose her next words carefully. “We’re looking for him, but I need you to tell me what you remember. Did anything unusual happen before the accident? Run into anyone suspicious?”
“You think he’s been taken?” Eddie asks, but it makes sense. He did see someone lift Buck out of the truck, and clearly, he didn’t end up in the hospital.
“It’s the leading theory. Someone ran you off the road, that we know, but going from tailgating to kidnapping is a huge leap for the average road rager,” she adds.
Eddie digs through his memory, only half-trusting them. He didn’t even realize three days had passed. What else doesn’t he remember? What if he forgot something that would lead to finding Buck?
“Anyone at a gas station? On the side of the road? The motel?”
The motel.
There was a woman at the motel.
“We stayed at a motel outside of Flagstaff last night. There was a woman, another resident. She was in the room next to ours, and she was at the rest stop this morning,” he tells Athena as the pieces fall into place.
Sergeant Grant, not Athena, pushes further. “What about this woman? Did she say anything to you two? Threaten you in any way?”
“She was a shorter woman with brown hair. She was wearing a really thick perfume, like the kind my abuela would wear. Vanilla maybe? She wouldn’t take his eyes off Buck. It was kind of freaking him out, but I didn’t think much of it.“
“My boy had eyes like yours.” Her sullen voice cuts through the fog.
“She really liked his eyes,” Eddie finishes. If Athena seems unconvinced, she hides it well.
“Anything else? Did she, or anyone else, follow you?”
“She left before we did, but I saw the truck she got into. It was a—oh, God.” It hits him hard and fast. The full picture comes to light. “It was a platform truck. The same one that ran us off the road.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” He’s never been more sure of anything in his life. “I didn’t think twice of it then. The exchange was weird, but innocent enough. At least I thought, but before I passed out, I smelled vanilla perfume. The same vanilla perfume as the rest stop.”
Athena jots down notes. “Buck’s a big guy. She couldn’t have pulled him out by herself. Do you think she had help?”
“She wasn’t driving. I saw her get into the passenger seat.” Eddie nods. It’s clear as day now. “Athena, you have to believe me.”
She says, “I do,” and Eddie knows it for sure. “We’ll work backward from there. Thank you, Eddie.” Athena collects her things and makes for the door.
“Are you leaving?” He sits up a little taller.
She stops at the door, looking back at him over her shoulder. “I’m going to find our boy.”
Our boy.
“I’m coming with you.” Eddie flips off the blankets and slides out of bed. She eyes him up and down, no doubt judging the state of his injuries. “You can’t stop me.”
She absolutely could. She’s Athena Grant; she could stop the sun from shining with the furrow of her brow if she tried hard enough.
But there’s something behind her eyes, a shared understanding. Here stand two people who would do anything to save the one they love, even if that meant running into a burning building or even an underground lab. That’s the common thread between them.
His look says it all. I love him.
She nods, albeit a bit hesitantly, but nods all the same. “Get changed. We’ve already lost half the day.”
BUCK
His head is going to fall off his neck.
It’s heavy. Really heavy. It would feel so much better to let it go, to watch it roll off.
How long can you survive without a head?
His eyes would go with it. Would they still work? If they still worked, maybe he could muster the strength to open them and see where he is.
It’s dark. Are his eyes closed now? No, they must be open. He can feel the tips of his eyelashes brush his brow bone. Light like butterfly kisses, he blinks rapidly.
His eyes are open, but it’s dark. This room is dark, so he can’t see.
An involuntary groan escapes his throat. The noise surprises him, and only then does he realize how quiet the air around him is.
His head is heavy. It falls side to side, sending a searing pain down his back. His shoulders are pinned back, straining his neck even more. A fiery warmth burns through what feels like every cell in his body. Another groan. He still can’t see.
This very dark room is also very hot. Dark and hot, not a lot to work with. His head is heavy; it hurts to think. Why won’t it fall off?
Suddenly, the thought scares him. Can heads break off necks like that? Unprompted? He’s concluded there’s no way to survive that. He doesn’t want his head to fall off.
Is he dying? Already dead? He doesn’t want to die. He’s been there, done that, and it doesn’t sound any more appealing the second time around.
Salt streams down his face and onto his tongue. When did he start crying? Is he dying? Why is he crying? Why is his head so heavy?
His wrists hurt. Why do his wrists hurt? Why are his shoulders so tight?
Where is he? It’s so dark. He can’t see when it’s this dark.
His head falls, not completely off, but down to his chest. In this position, it’s not as heavy. That’s better. One problem solved.
Is he still crying? He doesn’t remember stopping. When did he start?
He closes his eyes, at least he thinks he does. It’s just as dark as before. The world drifts away.
Buck wakes with the worst hangover of his life. He doesn’t remember going out for drinks with Eddie. The only taste in his mouth is thick saliva and a hint of cheese. Not the real kind, though, the super artificial kind that you know was produced with chemicals you can’t pronounce.
He brings his head up slowly, cautiously, and gets a good look at his surroundings. Not Los Angeles, that’s for sure. Did they not make it home yesterday? They were supposed to.
It’s not the inside of a motel either.
From the looks of it, he’s tied to a wooden support beam in the middle of a…tool shed? None of those words makes sense to him.
Why is he tied up? Who tied him up? How did he get here?
Why are his clothes different? He’s wearing a striped orange and white shirt and khakis. Buck doesn’t even own khakis like this. They’re way too tight around his thighs. Where are his clothes? His heart starts to race. The sticky heat of the shed already sticks to him like glue, but with the newfound panic, it feels like the world’s deadliest sauna.
There’s one more question to add to the excruciatingly long laundry list.
Where is Eddie?
The door creaks open, and Buck’s heart drops to his stomach. He’s about to meet his maker, no doubt.
“Good morning, Norman,” an older lady walks in, tray in hand and a glowing smile on her face. Is that…the woman from the motel? The one who wouldn’t stop commenting on Buck’s eyes. “There’s that handsome face! Did you sleep well?”
“Where’s Eddie?” It doesn’t matter what she does to him, as long as he knows exactly where Eddie is and that he’s safe.
“Is that any way to greet your mother?” She asks, placing her hands square on her hips after setting the tray down beside him. The only thing resting on it is a thin needle full of an unknown liquid and an old school photo. The boy in it can’t be more than ten years old, Buck figures. He’s dressed in a similar orange and white shirt to Buck. “You were always so quick with your tongue, Norman.”
The boy in the photo? Norman?
“My name’s not Norman,” he presses. “It’s Evan Buckley. I’m—“
“A firefighter for the LAFD,” she fills in the blank, annoyed as if she’s heard that a thousand times. “Lies, Norman, and you know what happens to boys who lie to their mothers.”
“My name’s not—” He’s cut off by the back of her hand meeting his face. Buck instinctively goes to lift a hand to defend himself, but they’re tied behind his back. The rope and duct tape chafe against his wrists.
“Boys who lie to their mothers are very sick, and they need medicine.” Her high-pitched voice is patronizingly frightening. She taps her long fingernails against the tray. “I have some here for you.”
The fear hits him all at once. This isn’t the first time he’s seen that needle. Now that he thinks about it, it might not even be the second time. All he knows for sure is that whenever that needle presses into his skin, something very bad happens.
“No, please. I don’t want it,” he begs, voice cracking. “I don’t want it. I don’t want it.”
“Oh, Norman. I know you don’t want it, but you need it.” She caresses his cheek, and Buck catches a whiff of her lavish perfume. “It’ll help you stop lying.”
“It’s you. I think it’s been you all along.” Eddie’s eyes meet Buck’s again. The invisible veil between them fades to nothing. “What do you want, Buck?” Buck remembers their night in Oklahoma, when they crossed the line into “something more” and never looked back.
I want you. Where are you?
Where is Eddie? His breath stifles at the thought.
She flicks the needle and taps for a vein. Alarm bells go off in his brain. Every fiber of his being is telling him to fight back, to get her to stop. Buck backs himself as far as he can into the pole to escape her reach, but there’s nowhere for him to go.
He can’t physically get away from her, so what’s the alternative?
This woman thinks he’s her son, Norman. He can use that, be a surrogate. He can be a mother’s boy.
The confusion surrounding the situation and the detachment from Eddie are enough for him to produce a set of convincing tears. Before the needle sticks his skin, he begins to shiver and shake with his sobs.
She registers his distress immediately. “Oh, it’s okay, honey. I know it’s scary, but it’ll help you.”
“I-I’m so c-cold.” It’s about a million degrees in this room, but his fearful goosebumps and hysterics sell the lie.
“Let me get you a jacket.” She takes the bait, setting the needle down and leaving to hunt down a remedy for his sudden shift in body temperature. Buck watches the needle intently, the rest of his mind forming a plan.
It’s not that far out of reach. If he can twist his body while her back is turned, he might be able to use it against her. He didn’t say it was a strong plan, but it’s all he’s got.
She’s too quick for him, though. She returns barely a second later, a dark jacket draped over her arms. The needle rests exactly where she left it.
That jacket…
That’s Eddie’s jacket.
Buck launches himself at her, not getting far because of the restraints. His shoulders pin together, threatening to pop out of their sockets. “Where is he? What did you do to him?”
The mask drops. The woman standing in front of him is no longer a mother. Her eyes are sharp and deadly, like a hawk hunting its prey.
“He’s here, around back, unharmed,” she says, tossing the jacket at his feet. Buck kicks it away. “And he will remain that way, if you do what we say and stop lying, Norman.”
That jacket is undoubtedly his. They have Eddie, too, probably tied up in the same fashion as Buck. He’s somewhere close by, as alone and afraid, with no idea how to escape. Are they drugging him? Is he truly unharmed? Buck has no reason to believe a word coming out of her mouth.
Still, there is a slight, and he means slight, comfort in knowing—or thinking—he’s alive. The possibility of truth is enough for Buck to keep fighting. There is a world where they get out of this alive. He has to believe it.
“W-we?” Buck fully processes the weight of her words.
“Your father and I,” the motherly tone returns, and that scares Buck more than the actual threats. There’s another person. It’s no longer two versus one; they just lost their advantage. “Did you forget what today is?”
“Remind me, please,” he sugarcoats the politeness.
“You died today!” She laughs hysterically before stopping abruptly. Her dead eyes find his, and there is no soul behind them. They’re black, empty pits. “We’re prepping for your funeral, darling.”
“No,” he struggles against the restraints. There’s one thing he hasn’t tried yet. The simplest act of them all. “HELP!” He screams from the top of his lungs so loud, his throat is raw with the next breath.
“Shut up!” Norman’s mother screams, steam fuming from her ears. She smacks him again, and this time her ring catches the end of his eyebrow. He feels the blood leak down the side of his face. “Shut up or I’ll make you watch as I gut him like a fish! I don’t want to do that, Norman!”
He can see it in her eyes. She’ll do it, she’ll really kill Eddie if he doesn’t cooperate. There’s no other option. He has to be Norman.
“Please, don’t hurt him. Do whatever you want to me, just don’t hurt him,” Buck pleads. “I’m Norman, and you're my mom, and I love you.”
I love you, Eddie.
“Are you ready to behave?” She finds a spare towel and dabs at his wound. Buck shakes violently at the touch, and his body shrinks to half its size. The taste of blood, sweat, and tears mix together with a hard swallow.
He gives a nod, slow and relenting. Any hope he had left disappears with the affirmation. His shoulders lean forward in defeat, curls dusting over his eyeline.
“Great!” Her cheeky smile returns. “Now, if you sit still. I believe your father has something special prepped for an occasion like this.”
A man throws open the old, wooden door, entering the shed with an even larger needle in hand. Buck doesn’t have a moment to think or act before it finds itself injected into his chest.
The needle extends deep inside him, knocking the breath right out of his chest.
He screams, but there is no sound.
The scar on Eddie’s lip acts as a landing point. Buck takes a leap of faith and transforms his subconscious wants into conscious actions.
His hand slides across the bed and up to Eddie’s waist, finding a perfect notch to rest on. Buck tightens his grip ever so slightly as he dives into the kiss. Eddie’s abs flex with surprise at the touch, but contract as he settles into Buck’s lips.
Their bodies press closer together until they’re fully intertwined in the center of the bed. They move in harmony, both understanding that caution has become an afterthought.
Eddie’s tender kiss provides all the courage Buck needs to continue with confidence.
Their shadows dance across the walls, backlit by the brilliance of the stars.
Buck pulls away, placing one last kiss on the tip of Eddie’s nose.
“I want this to be real,” Buck whispers. Head hazy with euphoria. “All of it.”
“It is,” Eddie matches his volume.
“Then why does it feel like a dream?”
Buck’s pulled from the depths of his mind too soon. He was there, with Eddie, at the Oklahoma motel. He had everything right in front of him.
How did it all slip away so fast?
The shared warmth of their body heat, the hesitance of the first touch, and the elimination of fear once their lips pressed together. He swears it actually happened, swears it was real, but doubt resides under a murky surface.
He wants it to be real. He wants Eddie next to him until they're old and gray, and even after that, he wants them to return to the earth side by side, two souls intertwined for eternity.
Buck cracks his eyes open, apprehensive to face a world where he and Eddie aren’t together. He stares up at a perfectly rectangular frame of blue sky overhead. Around him, the walls are high and appear to be made of dirt.
Did he get his wish?
Is Eddie lying next to him, tucked close and ready for a life after death? His limbs are numb, fuzzy at the touch. He can’t move to confirm or deny Eddie’s existence.
A pile of dirt rains down from the heavens and settles on top of him like a welcoming blanket.
Has Mother Nature come to claim them once and for all?
It’s not so bad, he realizes. Lying in his own grave, waiting for the final light to go out. There is no fear, no trepidation. Not when his Eddie is with him, now and forever, holding his hand as they walk in stride.
Another round of dirt fills the space next to him, cementing his spot for all eternity. His final place of rest.
Buck shuts his eyes. He falls in and out of the dream, not quite identifying what’s real or not.
Eddie’s laugh. That is real. All the times they spent laughing together like two kids out on the playground, with Buck ranting about this and that and Eddie listening with open ears. Those memories are clear as day.
His hands, his soft skin. The way Buck invites them in and lets them stay, never asking them to leave. Eddie’s touch is real.
Through the darkness, Buck finds a pair of soulful, amber eyes. The only ones of their kind, so innocent in appearance, with layers and layers of stories to unpack. There’s so much Buck never got to uncover, so much left to discover in the flecks of golden light.
Maybe on the other side, he’ll have more time. He can study every inch of those brown irises and memorize the patterns of the soul residing behind them.
He stays there, nestled between the depths of this plane and the next.
The weight on his chest grows heavier, surely a sign of spiritual transition. He opens his eyes to give the world one final goodbye.
There is a crack of light, warm and bright, above him. It connects with him, residing in the only spot still exposed to earthly elements. It extends out in every direction, the first greeting of what comes next.
Bobby is there, stretching out his hand. Buck missed him so much, and here he is! Clear as day, right in front of his face, with a look that says, “Don’t be afraid. Let go.”
The hurt, the pain, the misery. The memory of Bobby’s last words that haunt him in the night. The disunity that followed, the cracks in their family that have yet to be repaired. Let it all go.
I want to! Buck tells him, but he can’t lift his arm. The layer of dirt is too heavy. He can’t lift his arm, and he can’t take Bobby’s hand. Wait for me, Bobby! Please!
Did Eddie go already? Buck can’t feel him anymore. He can’t feel much of anything.
There is light, and there is Bobby. There is a hand inviting him in, but he can’t take it. Please, let me go!
“Buck!” Oh, Eddie is still here. He never left, because they promised that if they left, they would go together. Now, they can. “Buck, hold on!”
Hold on for what? I’m ready to go now. Bobby is waiting for us. I can’t let him down again.
The light slowly starts to disappear. There Bobby was, ready and able, and Buck let the clock wind down. He’s too late, again.
No, don’t go! Don’t leave me.
A circle of darkness encroaches on his vision. The tunnel of light grows narrower and narrower. Buck races to catch it before it disappears completely. His chest continues to contract until, at the crux of a tight breath, all the tension releases.
“No!” Eddie screams. “You don’t get to leave me.”
Let’s go together, Eddie. I’m not scared. Take my hand and let’s go.
EDDIE
They got a hit.
Athena drives fast, but not fast enough for his liking. This is a matter of life and death, Buck’s life. That’s enough reason in and of itself to flip on the sirens and drive above the speed limit. He’s tempted to hit the switch for himself, but Athena’s warned him that sometimes sirens do more harm than good.
They have to ambush them. It’s the best shot they have to stop them from making any…rash decisions. Rash, meaning killing Buck without hesitation the second they get a whiff of the cops on their tail.
Eddie’s familiar with operating under the radar. He’s been a part of his fair share of covert operations, but none as important as this.
“How confident are you that this is the place?” Eddie’s leg bounces in his seat. They pull off the I-40, a few miles from the border, just as Eddie remembered, but they can’t afford to make mistakes. He’s already weighed down with guilt over the initial crash, if his instincts proved him wrong and they lose Buck in the process—
“You weren’t the only one to notice this woman’s strange behavior,” Athena explains. “Turns out she spoke to a lot of people around the motel. Kept going on about finding her son…”
“My boy had eyes like yours.”
“What exactly are we dealing with here?” Eddie questions. He swallows back a thick layer of phlegm.
Athena’s foot presses further into the gas. Eddie grips the side of the car, grounding himself against the acceleration. That’s more like it.
“I have no idea,” she responds earnestly. “But listen to me, Eddie. I’m not going to tell you to stay in the car. I know that’s not an option you’re willing to explore.”
She’s right about that. He practically broke out of the hospital; there’s no way he’s sitting on the sidelines now.
“You have to follow my lead. No going rogue, no trying to be a hero.” She shoots him a warning look. “Swear to me.”
“I swear,” Eddie promises, but a part of both of them knows it's insincere.
The car bobs up and down on the gravel road. There’s nothing out here but unbearable heat and an endless stretch of desert. Then, just off in the distance, he spots a small, boarded-up ranch house encircled by a barbed fence. Parked out front is one very unique-looking, raised truck.
The pit in his stomach and the rush of adrenaline to his head tell him this is it. Either they find Buck alive, and they make it home in one piece, or he loses his family forever. If Buck goes down, Eddie’s prepared to take the whole ship with him. Sorry, Athena.
They’re the only other car in the area; there’s no way they haven’t spotted them by now.
“I know you know how to use this.” Athena hands him her spare shotgun. “Stay behind me, and do not react. It’s for your own protection.”
“Don’t be trigger-happy. I understand,” he nods. “Let’s do this.”
Athena leads them to the south end of the house, where the fence splits. They’re able to enter the premises and begin the rescue.
That’s what this is: A rescue mission. It doesn’t become a recovery mission until—
Athena stops him with a hand to his chest. Around the back corner of the house is a dusty backyard and a small work shed. In the center, a deep hole, and beside it, a pile of fresh dirt.
Eyeballing it, it looks to be about six feet long and two, maybe three, feet wide. At the head is a makeshift wooden sign, but they’re too far away to read the carved text.
A tombstone and a grave.
The gun grows sweaty in his grip. He readies himself for a fight.
It all happens at once. First, a man emerges from the shed with a sickly-looking, unconscious Buck thrown over his shoulder. Eddie’s seen enough dead bodies to know the difference, or maybe he hopes he does.
Buck is not dead, only unconscious, he reassures himself.
Athena presses her hand further into his chest, not yet.
Then, the woman from the motel follows behind them. She’s dressed in a long black dress and her face is covered with a thin black veil, but it's her nonetheless. In her hand is a shovel.
Wake up! Eddie wants to scream. Fight back!
Slowly, they lower Buck into the grave, and together they shovel dirt atop him.
“Police!” Athena charges, gun raised. That’s his cue. “Put the shovel down and put your hands in the air.”
“How dare you interrupt our funeral!” The woman screeches through hysterical sobs. “This is a private, family matter.”
“He’s not your family. He’s mine.” Eddie brings himself beside Athena. They’re both so focused on the woman that it takes a second to realize they’ve lost sight of her husband.
In that time, he sneaks behind and tackles Eddie. He lands with a thump, headfirst on the ground. It rattles him, disorienting him completely.
One after another, the man sends his fist flying through Eddie’s cheek. His head bounces back to its rightful spot only to be struck again. His lasting injuries weaken him, the pressure in his chest returning more intensely than before, and his lip splits open along his scar line.
He deserves to feel it all.
The man slams down both fists onto Eddie’s sternum. Eddie jerks up involuntarily, coughing up blood with a painful exhale.
“Put the shovel down!” He hears Athena order.
“I have to finish burying, Norman! He deserves a place to rest peacefully!”
Buck is at the bottom of that hole. Buck is being covered in dirt. They did something to him, that’s why he’s not crawling out himself. He needs Eddie.
And Eddie needs him.
He catches the man's fists before they land for a second time. With a tight grip, he forces himself up and twists so the man buckles under the sudden duress. Once he has the upperhand, Eddie flips and slams the man down with a hard knee.
Eddie scrambles for his gun and aims it right at the man's head, finger dancing over the trigger.
He’s killed before; he’s prepared to kill now. For Buck.
“I’m not going to tell you again. Put the shovel down, or I will shoot!” Athena cocks her own gun. Third time’s a charm, or maybe the wife realizes she lost her hand, because she drops the shovel to the ground. Eddie notices that a good third of the original dirt pile has disappeared.
That’s enough to suffocate under.
“Eddie, let me handle this,” Athena directs, noticing the shift in his shoulders and the light disappear from his eyes. “Put your hands in the air, ma’am, and we’ll get this all taken care of.”
Athena gestures over to the emergency at hand, Buck. The man below Eddie’s knee means nothing.
A voice whispers to him through the anger, “I want this to be real. All of it.”
His eyes shift from the whimpering man at his feet, the one whose life is literally in Eddie’s hands, to Athena, who’s already cuffing the wife.
I want us to be real, but don’t let this be my reality. I need you in my life as my partner. You’re not allowed to leave now.
Eddie slams the butt of his gun into the man’s forehead, knocking him out on impact. With both suspects down, it’s time for the rescue.
“Buck!” He screams, racing over to the grave. Six feet below the surface, he spots a stray finger and a nose peaking out through the dirt. “Buck, hold on!”
You promised.
He jumps into the grave, careful not to land right on top of him. With his bare hands, he digs through the layers inch by inch.
I found you. Eddie’s finger nails stain with each claw at the ground.
“Bobby is waiting…” Buck mumbles, but the dirt around him has entered his airway through his mouth. He begins to cough and choke, a final plea for life.
He’s so pale. Gray replaces his usual yellow undertones. His curls are all out of place, and his cheeks are hollowed out. The purple hue under his eyes is so unnatural, Eddie thinks for a moment it must be makeup or paint.
What did they do to you? He shutters.
Then, like a candle drowning in wax, begging to stay lit, Buck passes out. Now, he looks dead.
“No!” Eddie screams. “You don’t get to leave me.”
Eddie clears the space completely and places two shaky fingers at Buck’s neck. It takes a long time to find a pulse, too long, so long that he doesn’t think there is one to find.
There’s no pulse.
The seconds slip away. There’s no time to bring him to the surface. He’s doing this here, at the bottom of this crumbly grave. Eddie knots his right fingers on top of his left knuckles and braces the heel of his hand against the center of Buck’s chest. Even as the world slows on its axis, he forces himself to keep rhythm.
27…28…
He feels a crack below his forceful hands.
29…30…
Eddie dusts off the dirt from Buck’s unnaturally pink, soft lips. Still perfect and unfaded. With two breaths, he gives his life-force to Buck, ignoring the blood still spilling from his own.
I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you, but you won’t wake up. Why won’t you wake up?
“Come on!” He calls out. “Come back to me!”
No response. He goes again.
28…29…30
Two breaths, even deeper than the last.
“Open your eyes, Buck!” He begs. Eddie hasn’t found comfort in prayer in a long time, but as he waits for Buck’s chest to rise with life, he finds himself talking to God.
Don’t take him from me. Please, don’t take him. I love him more than I love myself. He’s too good to die at my hand.
“Eddie,” Athena calls from above.
“I’m not leaving him!” He starts compressions again. “I can’t leave him.”
This is my fault. He sobs through 13…14…15…
Not him. I can’t lose him. Come back to me.
29…30
He dives down again, not thinking it possible to find more air, but somehow he does. It only takes one breath this time.
Buck coughs, dirt puffing out of his mouth and into the air. He opens his eyes, and there they are: the most crystal, hauntingly clear pools of blue. They’re a little dazed, and Buck looks lost overall, but better confused than dead.
As Eddie stares into them, his guilt dissipates into nothing. He fought the battle to get Buck back, and he won. They’re coming out of this together.
Eddie rolls Buck onto his side and gives him space to clear the rest of the debris from his lungs.
“I didn’t give up,” he wraps his arms around Buck and pulls his head in close. Their chests press together, and there’s a heartbeat on either end. “I didn’t give up.”
“Promise me it’ll be like this when we wake up tomorrow,” Eddie says, eyes unwavering from Buck’s as they lie together.
“I promise.”
The uptick in Buck’s heart monitor wakes him up. Eddie memorized the rhythm overnight, the slow and careful cadence. He fell asleep to the consistent beep, beep, beep, knowing that it meant Buck’s heart was still working.
“Hey,” Buck greets him.
Eddie pulls his chair to the side of the bed. “Hey.”
For someone who was kidnapped, tortured, and drugged less than 24 hours ago, Buck looks beautiful under the white LEDs of the hospital room.
“You’re like a really bad driver,” Buck jokes, slurring his words.
Eddie tears up, the hint of Buck’s personality filling an empty hole in his chest. “Next time, I’ll let you drive the whole way. How does that sound?”
“Good. It sounds good.” Buck’s lips crease into a sly smile. Even under all the pain meds, he’s a smart ass. Eddie loves him so much. “How long…?”
“You were gone for three days,” Eddie answers, but Buck shakes his head.
“No,” he struggles with the words. “Dead…How long?”
Eddie can’t believe he’s answering this question again. Death is such a certain part of life, but isn’t the deal you get one life and one death? Buck’s already doubled that quota.
“One minute and fifty-six seconds,” Eddie responds, combing a hand through Buck’s hair. He resticks the end of his bandages with a gentle thumb in the process.
“I’m sorry,” Buck exhales.
Eddie furrows his brows. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
“Scared…you,” Buck manages to get out. “Again.”
Eddie kisses the bridge of his nose, struggling to find an appropriate reply. “I found you,” he starts. “It’s not scary anymore. Don’t worry.”
“Okay.” Buck’s eyes grow red at the edges. “It’s not your fault, either.” He pokes Eddie’s shoulder.
“I know,” he nods, and it's not a complete lie. There’s comfort in knowing the person he loves with all his being accepts him for every part of him, the good and the bad. Buck would never blame Eddie for such a traumatic event, and that’s enough for Eddie to let himself off the hook.
“Can I ask you something?” Eddie bites his tongue. He knows he can ask Buck anything, but the history surrounding this topic isn’t one he takes lightly.
“Anything,” Buck agrees.
“When I found you, you mumbled something about Bobby. I know you were out of it, but do you remember that?”
Buck considers his question, searching through his mind like he’s translating an ancient text. “He says hello.”
“He does?” Eddie’s never been one to believe in ghosts, premonitions, or the supernatural, but when it comes to Bobby…Well, it’s something different altogether. He feels him, sees him everywhere. He knows what Bobby meant to Buck, so if there’s anyone who can cross into the unknown and contact him, it’s Buck.
“He does.” Buck smiles, reminiscing. “And he’s there, waiting, for when our time comes.”
“Which is not anytime soon,” Eddie clarifies. Buck’s higher knowledge settles him. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.” Buck looks to Eddie like he’s memorizing and re-memorizing every inch of his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
With all the chaos, Eddie hadn’t stopped to ask himself that question.
“I’m okay now that you’re safe.” Eddie cups Buck’s cheek in his hand and guides him in. He’s waited four days to kiss him, and it’s everything he imagined, but of course, it’s short-lived.
“About time!” Maddie walks in, flowers and treats in hand. The rest of the 118 sit in the lobby, awaiting the go-ahead. “Why does it always take a near-death experience for one of us to get into a relationship?” She flicks her finger back and forth between her and Buck.
“Hey, Mads.” Buck shifts a little, working through the pain to put on a cheerful exterior. He nudges Eddie, “That secret didn’t last long.”
“Eh,” Eddie shrugs. “I never wanted it to.”
With secrets unleashed and promises kept, Eddie feels it in his heart of hearts that the two of them are going to survive whatever life decides to throw their way.
Maybe they’ll avoid the I-40 for a while, though.