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Summary
Buck tugged at his wrists again, feeling the recognizable stickiness of the tape now holding his hands together. Fuck. This wasn’t good.
He’s wearing a striped shirt he doesn’t recognize and his jeans look lighter than the pair he put on this morning... at the motel... Eddie.
His heart rate skyrocketed as he tried to remember what happened, how he got there, but more importantly where Eddie was. He felt too weak and sluggish to turn around to see if Eddie was in the same situation as him behind him, but fuck, he really hoped Eddie was okay.
That Eddie was far, far away from whatever was happening here.
OR: My version of what could happen in 9x13
