Has this been done before? I don't really come on PnF fanfiction much. But this idea sprouted in my head when I was looking at the hiccup episode again. I also needed to write another PnF fanfic. (Currently I have two but 'Wildfire' is going to get deleted if it isn't already. I'm going to put that idea in another story. 'A Forgotten Animal' may be revised because it kind of looks like eh.)

If this idea has been taken then I'm sorry. Again I don't go on this subject much because the show is starting to become boring which affects how much I go on here. I still watch it though for the older episodes because face it the newer ones are so… well. (It's always after a movie. It happened with Spongebob. It happened with Fairly Odd Parents. It happened to a lot of cartoons.)

But enough with my rambling on.

I DO NOT OWN PHINEAS AND FERB! If I did, Ferb would be a fire bending assassin with exceptional hearing and everything would take place in medieval times. (Don't expect a story about that. It's too complicated.)

Italics are present time. Regular font is the back-story.

Confession

They had led him to an interrogation room. He had kept silent when the police tried to get information out of him. Why should he say anything? They were going to lock him up no matter what he said. In fact, the only reason why he was in this room was for protection. His protection to be exact. If he had his way, he would leave this room and face the people who wanted him dead or put away. He agreed with them. He would let them vent out their feeling and not say a word because they would be right. But all he could do is fiddle with the handcuffs that held him to the table.

"Aren't you going say anything?!"

The prisoner didn't acknowledge the recent officer. He could tell it was pissing him off by the voice. He didn't even bother to shift his gaze from the cuffs. He knew that if he showed any acknowledgement it would be marked as progress.

If anything, he was going backwards in his life.

A deep sigh and the sound of the chair scraping the floor signaled that the officer had given up. He lifted his eyes slightly as the uniformed figure went out the door, leaving him in silence.

He didn't know how long he was in there already. There was no indication of time. There was one table, two chairs, the files that contained his information, handcuffs, water bottles, and a window that he had confirmed was one-way because he couldn't see anything out of it. Half the room was cast in a huge shadow. He, of course, was in the lighter part of the room. The darker part was reserved for his interrogator.

The prisoner lifted his head completely for the first time in a long time, wincing at the stiffness in his neck. He turned towards the door. Even though he couldn't tell the time he knew that usually another interviewer would have came a while ago.

Did they finally give up on him?

Sighing, he put his head on the table and closed his eyes. He hadn't slept in forever. He fell into the kind of sleep where he heard everything, which wasn't really anything, but didn't react to. However, he reacted to the squeak of the door. Instinctively, he turned his head to the source of the noise and locked eyes with the new person. His eyes widened when he realized that it wasn't a person of uniform.

It was someone he once could call 'friend'.

The interrogator nodded once to him and walked calmly to the dark side. The captive's eyes followed the other person's every move. No words were exchanged as the figure sat down and grabbed the file that was on the table. The prisoner wondered how the showdown clad man could read the papers in such darkness. He waited for the explosion from his interrogator, the rage and sorrow to swallow him up. But the only sounds were the papers rustling. He started to move his wrists to make noise and to calm his own feelings. Finally, he started to crack.

"I'm sorry!" He sobbed to his former friend. "I couldn't do anything to stop her! I didn't know! I let fear get in the way! It's all my fault! I loved her and I killed her!" His head fell into his arms, muffling his cries. He stopped his babbling and just let the tears and moans escape him. Finally, when he started heaving and shaking from his crying, the other man spoke.

"Buford."

The prisoner slowly lifted his head at his name.

"Go ahead. Yell, hit me, do anything you want. I won't blame you." To his surprise the other man just leaned back.

"No." Was all he said. The prisoner, suddenly enraged, jumped out of his chair.

"Why not!?" He screamed. He was confused at the strange calmness his former friend showed. "Isn't that the reason why you came here!? I killed two people and I'm going to go scot-free!? Don't you care!?"

"In the order you asked, nothing going to change if I yell. No. It is confirmed you killed one but there is no proof that you killed another. And of course I care. They were my family, Buford."

The prisoner reached out with his free hand to grab the chair that had flew from under him in his rage. His overall emotion was confusement. How can this man who hadn't been here as long as the officers make him like this?

"I can't believe you're only twenty years old."

"You're only a year younger than me so why are you surprised?" It was the first calm sentence that came from the prisoner ever since he came here. He shifted his gaze towards the one-way window. "I can feel people watching me even though I can't see them." He commented.

"They can hear you, too. Here." Something skidded across the table towards the captive. A bag of pretzels. "You've been here for about 4 hours. You must be starving." The prisoner immediately opened them.

"Why are you really here?" He asked between mouthfuls.

"Why do you think?"

"I killed them. That's all you need to know." The newcomer hummed at the reply before taking out a notebook and a pen.

"I thought they could hear us."

"They can." The man started to move the pen.

"Then why do you have that out?"

"Because." The simple answer irked the prisoner.

"That's not a real answer." He mumbled through the pretzels.

"You didn't give me a real answer when I asked."

"That was different!"

"Really?" The shadowed figure didn't meet his gaze. "How so?"

"You know what I did." The prisoner murmured. A few moments passed by before the newcomer finally moved his head to gaze at the convict.

"I know what you did. It's all here." The former friend picked up the file and shook it. "But I don't know why you did it." The younger man looked back at the notebook and started writing again, leaving the prisoner in almost complete silence. It stayed like this for a little while until the captive broke the tranquility again.

"I don't know why." He managed to squeak out. The recent addition didn't bother to show that he heard. In fact, his gaze never left pencil and paper. The captive took this reaction as a signal to go on in a stronger voice. "The only reason I could think is because I loved her."

"That's not really a sufficient reason."

"Then what else am I supposed to say!?" The prisoner yelled in frustration. The younger one just tipped his chair back and twirled his pen.

"It's kind of odd, is it? You and I both thought when I first came in that I would be the first one to lose control. But because I didn't act like our expectations you didn't know how to act. So you pretty much exploded. Am I right?" The prisoner nodded, dumbfounded at the turn of the conversation.

"But… but…why-?"

"'Why' seems to be the question of the day, does it?" The newcomer interrupted. The captive lowered his head and stared at the chains that held him. The chair in front of him scraped the floor as the visitor left it. The captive was expecting the door to open but instead the footsteps stopped right by him.

"If losing patience didn't help you or the officers the past times they came in here why would I do the same thing? That would be insane." A flash of silver caught the attention of the older man. Fear instantly went through his body.

"What are you doing?" He tried to pull away but his wrist held him to the table. The visitor bent over the handcuffs. The prisoner relaxed when he saw it was a key.

"I'm letting you walk around. I trust you, as my friend, not to hurt me in any way." A click was the thing the prisoner heard before he was free. His liberator backed away as he tried out his legs for the first time in hours. The captive almost fell on his face a few times before he was finally able to walk normally. He looked back at the other man. Guilt made him say the next words.

"Fine, I'll tell you the best I can."

Should I continue? I won't unless you tell me.