::gasp!:: She's writing fanfiction?!
Yes. And I actually like how this one turned out--even if it turned out longer than I intended, hence the LJ-Cut. (Fifteen pages in Microsoft Word. FIFTEEN!) ^_^" But since I finished that letter for financial aid, I think I owe myself a departure from the ordinary. So there.
Wow. I finished a necessary letter and a story. Go me! ^__^
Anyway. I'm breaking it down the way I'm about to break down the details, because I plan on submitting it to The Immortality Project fansite later, so...yeah. >.> Anyway. Read & Review, yes? ^_^
Title: A Walk in the Park
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Rating: Uh...PG, I guess.
Pairing: Frankie/Gerard. (Shut up. XD)
Disclaimer: Obviously, you guys know that it's only a dream for me to know them. And I'm pretty sure nothing like this ever happened. And...um...yeah. That's it. >.>
PS - I'm terrible with summaries, and this story's just the kind that refuses to be nice and offer me an easy summary, so if someone could read it and then maybe help me hammer one out, I'd love you forever. ^_^
A Walk in the Park
It was the middle of November when they met up. It was just after Thanksgiving, and the light was fading early from the world, throwing a sleepy golden glow onto everything it touched. The pre-winter air brushed across their faces, chilling the skin. An old couple walked by, smiling at them as they went past. Glancing first at the young woman sitting next to him, Frank Iero returned the smile.
They must think we’re dating, he thought.
Frank sat next to this girl in the park because he had gotten a note a week before telling him to do so, because a month before that he had saved her life from a group of neighborhood punks. Clairesse, she had her name was; and after a very peculiar conversation, they had parted ways and he thought little of her or that day…until the not appeared, that is. It had been waiting for him on the kitchen table when Frank had awakened to the sound of Gerard singing in the kitchen as he made his coffee. There had been nothing to mark where it had come from--only his name written in the most beautiful cursive he’d ever seen. The handwriting had vaguely reminded him of Harry Potter--the way everyone wrote with quills, making letters the way only quills could make them with their strange points…
“It was sitting on the front porch when I went to check the mail,” Gerard had said. “I figured you’d want me to bring it in, since it looks like it might rain and…well, it’s got your name on it.”
Frank had picked up the powder blue envelope cautiously, turning it over in his hands. “You didn’t see anyone drop it off?”
“Hm?” Gerard, who had been busying himself with the coffeemaker, abandoned that in favor of standing next to Frank. He looked down at the envelope before shaking his head. “Nope.”
With an increased sense of caution, Frank opened the envelope and pulled out the small piece of paper inside. It was colored the same hue as the envelope, and the handwriting was the same as on the envelope…but it was the almost-cryptic message that caught the guitarist off guard:
Meet me at the park an hour before the sun starts to set.
Don’t worry about what day; you’ll know when.
Don’t worry about where in the park; you’ll know where.
“Huh.”
Frank had folded the note back up and returned it to the envelope without reading it aloud. Gerard hadn’t asked what it said, content with the brief glance and preferring not to pry.
“I wonder who it’s from.”
Like he had really needed to wonder. Frank knew who it was who had left him the note. He remembered wishing he hadn’t known (although why he felt that way, he still couldn’t really say) but he knew. Memories of that day in the park had returned with unusual clarity.
“Maybe it’s just some local fan. Or maybe it’s a secret admirer,” Gerard had said, and the grin he had flashed Frank then was one that brightened his heart.
“Jealous?”
And that was when Gerard had slipped an arm about the guitarist’s waist and kissed him tenderly.
“Why should I be jealous? I know you’re mine…”
“So…are you happy?”
“Huh?”
Frank was startled out of his reverie by her soft voice. She always spoke softly, as though everything she said was some secret meant only for the people sitting near her. It made him a little nervous, but he couldn’t figure out why. Clairesse merely threw a glance in his direction, her earth-brown eyes gauging the emotion in his hazel ones. Her mouth stretched into a soft smile.
“Do you always startle this easily?”
He sighed, shoving his gloved hands into the pockets of his hooded jacket and glancing briefly down at his shoes. It was the perfect gesture of uncertainty.
“I asked you if you were happy,” she said. “Everything you’ve told me so far…suggests to me that you’re happy.”
“That’s because I am happy.”
The minute the words left his mouth, he knew he had answered to quickly for it to be true. But it was true. Frank was happy. He couldn’t be any happier--not even if Clairesse had surprised him with a fully restored Pansy. But that she questioned his happiness made him feel strange. There was nothing malicious or blatantly foreboding in her tone, but all the same… He couldn’t help feeling a bit defensive.
“I’m happy,” Frank said again, slowly. “I have the one thing I want most in life, and if it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be miserable.”
And how miserable he had been, trying not to be in love with Gerard when it was all he could think of. Every time the vocalist smiled or laughed…every time he set his hazel eyes in Frank’s specific direction… It was almost too much. But Frank had tried to resist it in order to save himself the sting of rejection. He had almost succeeded in convincing himself that it was just a silly crush--that Gerard had never and would never feel the same way--and then a modern-day damsel in distress had come along to unwittingly provide the answer to his problems.
So then why did he feel like she was about to bring problems in his direction?
“I still have regrets about it, Frank. I still wonder if breaking the biggest rule I’m told to follow was worth it. From what you’ve said, things have been nothing short of perfect for you and him, but I wonder… It’s only been a month.”
“And it’s been the best month of my life.”
“But it’s only been a month. You can’t predict the heart’s future weather with just a month. And it’s not you I worry about; it’s Gerard.”
Frank looked at Clairesse almost incredulously. “What do you mean?”
“A person with an open heart like his is more vulnerable than you could imagine. If you broke up with him now…there’s no telling how he would react. I know what would have to happen…as do you.”
Slowly he nodded. He remembered that part of whatever deal they had made one month ago. But he was more than certain that there would never come a time where that end of the bargain would have to be fulfilled. He loved Gerard--would love Gerard until the day he died and even beyond that, if it were possible. Clairesse was fretting over nothing. She was making him nervous with her cryptic talk of doom and gloom, when Frank knew in his heart that things--apart from the usual ups and downs in a relationship--would be fine.
“Frank?”
“Hm?”
Clairesse hesitated a moment. “Well…it’s just… Don’t be so ignorant as to think that I’m so detached from the world as to believe that people don’t change over time. Change is a basic law of nature; without it, you and I wouldn’t be sitting here. But try to understand this: I may not look it, but I have had more time than you have had to figure out the general rules surrounding human nature. Love is an oft-mistreated thing--especially nowadays.
“Promise me that you won’t be like others. I have faith that you won’t be, but just promise me that much. He’s too precious to lose. Take care of him; lie to him if you have to. Because believe you me…I don’t want to hurt him.”
Frank smiled at her a little. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Clairesse looked at him soberly.
“For Gerard’s sake, I had better not.”
* * *
Time passes, and people change.
And one day, during the hours of the morning when the world was still dark, Frank came to the sudden realization that he was no longer in love with the vocalist. Oh, he cared about him a great deal--would be completely lost if something ever happened to him--but he just…didn’t…love him the way he used to. He wondered where this feeling had come from, when it had first started to grow like a stealthy weed. Had there been some major act to mark the division between the days when he would have given anything to constantly be in Gerard’s presence and tonight?
Further startled, Frank sat up in bed. He could think of nothing that had happened to change the course of his feelings. Nothing. Neither a single word nor action hid in his memory to spark this sudden change. It was as if one moment he had been completely in love with Gerard, and then…nothing. Emptiness, maybe. A sense of deep caring, perhaps. But that was all.
Well…no, that was not all. Because the moment Frank accepted this new truth, a memory several months old escaped from the vault of his mind. Against his will, he remembered a chilly day in November, when the sun had given everything a sleepy, golden glow.
He remembered sitting on a bench in a park, and he remembered the girl who had sat with him.
He remembered their conversation.
And perhaps more important than everything else, he remembered the promise he had agreed to keep.
“Promise me that you won’t be like others. I have faith that you won’t be, but just promise me that much. He’s too precious to lose. Take care of him; lie to him if you have to. Because believe you me…I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Oh, my God.”
Taking care to be as quiet as possible, Frank slipped out of bed and got dressed. He needed to take a walk.
* * *
She was sitting on the same park bench when he reached the park, dressed almost in the same clothes--down to that damned gray coat. If she noticed him before he sat down and lowered the hood of his jacket, she gave no sign. Frank had a feeling she had, of course; she was unusually perceptive, so why wouldn’t she? She glanced at him, and he caught a look so full of sadness that he thought there were tears…
Her gaze snapped away before he could verify it, but he watched her hand discreetly move across her face.
“I knew it would happen sooner or later. I had hoped that it wouldn’t. That maybe you would be different from all the others. But…” Clairesse sighed, letting the sentence die out. “You remember the rules, don’t you?”
Slowly, Frank nodded. “But there has to be another way. I can’t-- I just--”
“It’s the rules, Frank. I cannot break them or even bend them. I just set things in motion.”
“But Gerard… He didn’t do a thing. He had no--”
“Control?” Clairesse flashed the guitarist a bitter smile. “And who do we thank for that, Mr. Iero? ‘He haunts my thoughts. Every time he smiles at me, my heart jumps. Every time he looks at me, I’m scared to look back, because of what he might see in my eyes.’ Isn’t that what you said to me, that day in the park when we first met? And look at you now. Not even a year, Frank. Not even a year, and now I--”
Suddenly she stopped and chuckled bitterly. This time, when the tears started down her face, she didn’t wipe them discreetly away. Frank tried to speak and found himself at a loss for words. It was his fault, all of it. He should have known better than to be so drastic, should have thought about the consequences, but his heart had been too strong to resist. It had commanded, and now…
“I could have given you anything else in the world, but you had to go and pick the one thing it was against the rules for me to do. And against my better judgment, I did it for you anyway. Even when I knew it was wrong, I opened his heart to you, hoping you of all people would understand how fragile that makes someone. But in the end you were like the rest.”
Even though anger edged her voice, she barely raised it above normal speaking level; somehow, that was worse than the idea of her yelling at him.
“What will happen to him?” he asked softly.
Clairesse shook her head. “You don’t want to know ahead of time. Not when you have to be there to see it. It just makes things worse.”
Frank gave a bitter snort. “Is that in the rules, too?”
“Actually it is. You set up the deal…you have to be there to watch it be undone.”
“Then I won’t be there. He won’t be there.”
“You can’t avoid fate, Frank. Not when you set it up yourself. And Gerard certainly can’t avoid it.”
“But why him? Why not me instead? Why does he have to die for something I did to him?”
“Noble words, Frank. Beautiful words. But they’re meaningless. They won’t stop what has to happen,” Clairesse said.
“I won’t let him die.”
Clairesse looked over at him, smiling softly, sadly. “You should have thought of that beforehand.”
Frank tensed his jaw to keep from screaming at her. The hint of tears stung at the corner of his eyes. How could she be so cold? She could make anything happen. Why couldn’t she stop this? Frank could see the reluctance in her face; Clairesse didn’t want to kill him any more than he wanted Gerard to die. So why..?
Why…why…why. The world was full of people asking, “Why?” In the great scheme of things, he was just one more person. In the great scheme of things, it didn’t matter how many times he asked. It wouldn’t change the course of anything. Frank understood that now.
And he hated it.
“Enjoy today,” Clairesse said to him as she rose. “And don’t be late for your appointment with fate.”
* * *
Things happened so quickly that Gerard wasn’t able to piece the events into a single coherent memory until much later, when he was sitting outside of the emergency room praying for things to go well. And even then, his mind was still hazy on the facts, but as far as he knew, things happened the way he pieced them together.
The day had started out well enough. Frank had been in the kitchen when he awoke, already dressed and making breakfast. With a sly grin, Gerard had snuck up behind him, snaking his arms around the younger man’s waist and stealing a kiss when Frank turned his head.
“Morning,” he had said.
Frank had smiled, but there had been something…off about it. “Morning.”
Gerard frowned, immediately jumping to the chase. “What’s wrong?”
“What?”
“You seem…I don’t know.” The vocalist had shrugged and gone towards the coffeepot. There had been nothing in it, and nothing in the cupboard with which to make that lovely source of caffeine, and he remembered frowning at that. “No coffee? What’s the world coming to?”
Frank had chuckled at that, but even that had seemed a bit off. “I was gonna run to the store… But what made you ask?”
Gerard had shrugged again. “You just kind of look like… I don’t know. Like you didn’t sleep well.”
“Nightmares,” was all the guitarist would say, and in the next moment he was turning off the stove and suggesting they go out for breakfast instead of staying in. “My treat. We’ll even go to Starbucks first. Besides, there’s this neat little park I’d been wanting to take you to…”
And not one to resist Frank (or an offer of Starbucks, for that matter), Gerard had more than happily agreed. And the coffee had been wonderful, and breakfast had been wonderful…and being with Frank on such a clear day had been--naturally--wonderful. But then they had gone to the park, and everything had changed. At that damn park--that’s where everything had gone from wonderful to terrifying. Where it was Gerard’s turn to have a nightmare. Only his nightmare was real--too real.
He wasn’t sure of how it happened, exactly, or where the strange guy had come from, for that matter. One minute it had just been him and Frank, walking hand-in-hand on one of the paths beset on both sides by tall trees…and then suddenly they were ambushed by a man wielding a gun, demanding their wallets and threatening to shoot.
And then…somehow…things had gotten worse. Before Gerard could realize it, they had gotten so much worse. The robber had realized they were a couple--because, in their fear, they had stupidly continued to hold hands rather than let go--and freaked. He had freaked, and after shouting things that Gerard couldn’t remember, he had raised the gun and fired. And the vocalist was more than sure that the bullets had been meant for him, but somehow--
“Gerard!”
Startled, Gerard looked up, hearing the scream in his head as clearly as he hadn’t in the park, before Frank had shoved him hard to the ground. He had watched with a scream of his own as the first bullet struck the guitarist in the chest, just beneath the sternum, and screamed again as the second bullet hit near the entrance of the first Frank had stumbled backward and fallen with a heavy thud, letting out a sick groan. Blood had poured freely from his wounds, from his mouth and nose. He had coughed, and more of the red fluid escaped. And the robber had disappeared, dropping the gun and taking off the opposite way without the wallets he had demanded in the first place, leaving Gerard and Frank to deal with the nightmare he had thrown onto them.
Gerard had heard stories about how you were never supposed to move the injured, but it hadn’t mattered then. For all he knew, Frankie was dying; for all he knew, there was no hope of help arriving soon enough to stop that. So with the greatest care, he had gathered the younger man into his arms, cradling his head in the crook of his shoulder.
“Frank! Frankie, God…stay with me. Don’t die on me, please… Hang on. Help will come, Frankie, just-just hang on, okay? Just hang on…”
But Gerard had already begun to doubt that help of any sort would save his love; for all the pressure he had applied on the wounds, Gerard could feel the blood flowing through his fingers, staining his pale hands as easily as it had stained his and Frankie’s clothes. The fear of losing him had been enough to strengthen the sobs already escaping his body. And then Frankie had spoken--or tried to speak, rather. But each attempt to form the words had ended in him cough up more blood instead. With whatever strength he had left, he had reached for Gerard’s hand and held it as tight as he could. If he couldn’t speak, he had to get his message through another way…
And then, like a phantom, that young woman had appeared.
The one in the charcoal gray trench coat.
The one who was now standing near him in the waiting room, holding a cup of coffee between her hands.
Gerard looked up, startled, and she in turn looked a bit surprised.
“I’m sorry… I should have made my presence known. I… Coffee?”
She held the cup out to him, and he--being too confused to refuse--took it.
“It’s not as good as Starbucks, I’m afraid, but it will have to do,” she said softly, sitting down across from him. “How is he?”
Gerard shrugged a little, staring down at the cup in his hands. “They haven’t said anything yet. And I’m starting to think that--that maybe they’re just…trying to figure out how to tell me he’s dead.”
She looked at him sympathetically. “Have some faith. I’m sure they’re doing everything they can.”
“I don’t even know how it could have happened. Things were going so well today. The day was just…perfect, y’know? As perfect as a day could get. And then… And now…”
Before he knew it, he was fighting tears again, scared freshly back into the idea that Frank was dead or close to dying. Letting out a deep breath, Gerard ran a hand over his face and through his hair, trying to compose himself, trying to keep as calm as possible. He looked over at the young woman in the trench coat.
“We were lucky, I guess… I mean, if you hadn’t shown up, he might not have had any chance at all. At least here…” He sniffled and smiled weakly. “Here he’s got one, right?”
With a weak smile of her own, she nodded. “Things will work the way they’re supposed to, Gerard. Frank is a tough guy; he won’t give up so easily. Not with you by his side.”
The vocalist blinked. “You know my name?”
She nodded. “And Frank. But I know him a bit better.”
“How do you know him? Are you two friends?”
“Well…I guess you could say that. Acquaintances, really…”
Gerard made a strange sound, the cross between a chuckle and a scoff. “Talk about luck, then.”
“More like fate,” she said quietly. And then, after a pause, “My name’s Clairesse, by the way.”
“Clairesse. That’s pretty.”
“Thanks, I guess. I hate it, but…” She shrugged.
He took a moment to actually drink the coffee he’d been offered, letting the name sink in. It struck him as odd that he could not remember a time that Frank had ever mentioned a girl by that name, even in passing. He set the coffee down.
“You know, he’s never mentioned you before.”
“Proof that we’re just acquaintances,” Clairesse answered. “But he saved my life once--although I don’t think he’s aware of it. It was a small thing, but really, it’s the smallest things that often have the biggest effects.”
Gerard nodded. “That’s insightful.”
“That’s the truth.” She hesitated a bit before adding, “He talked a lot about you, though.”
“Did he?” When she nodded again, he felt familiar defenses begin to build. “So then you know--?”
“Yes. But you’re in safe company, I assure you. Actually…I feel rather conceited admitting this to you, but if I had never met him--”
The sound of footsteps interrupted whatever Clairesse was going to say. Both of them turned their heads as a doctor in scrubs walked towards them, pulling off his paper cap and mask as he did. Gerard and Clairesse rose slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the vocalist already begin to wring his hands.
“H-h-how is he?” Gerard asked.
The doctor took in a breath. “Well, he lost a lot of blood between when he was shot and here, and for a while it was touch and go with him. He actually…actually flat-lined on us once, when we were trying to get the second bullet out--”
Gerard sank back down to his seat, hazel eyes wide, fearful. He couldn’t remember exactly how to breathe.
“--but we did manage to stabilize him. And it’s almost a miracle that the bullets missed anything serious. Any higher or lower and her would have--”
Clairesse cut him off. “We get the picture, Doc. Thanks.”
The doctor nodded, managing a subtle sympathetic smile. “The nurses are moving him up to a room; as soon as I get the number from them, you can go on up. We gave him some sedatives to make it easier for him to sleep, so I wouldn’t expect much until the morning, other than the fact that he should be alright to go home in a few days.”
The vocalist nodded numbly, and the doctor turned to leave. Clairesse followed him, curious to know something, and waited until they were by the elevators (and thus out of Gerard’s earshot) to speak with him.
“Can I ask you something?”
The doctor nodded. “Sure.”
“Okay… This may sound strange, but…” She sighed. “You said Frank flat-lined on you once while you were working on him?”
“That’s correct.”
“How long was he gone?”
The doctor blinked. What an unusual question for someone to ask. But then, he was just a resident and this had been his first gunshot victim, so maybe the “vets” heard this question more often. He tried to think back to the chaos of the room, to the moment when a single, monotone beep scared every doctor in the room into an even more chaotic frenzy.
“Five…five minutes, I would say. We were all pretty sure he wasn’t going to make it, and then…” He shrugged. “It was a regular miracle, when you think about it. Most doctors give up after two or three minutes.”
“Did he say anything?”
“What?”
“A strange question, I know. But did he say anything?”
The doctor tried to think, and remembered--or thought he remembered, since things could get so crazy in there that reality simply blurred--hearing a choked voice that could only have belonged to the patient.
“Now that you mention it, yeah, he did. It was right after the last shock we gave him, the one that finally revived him. I was standing right next to him when he spoke.”
“What did he say? Do you remember?” Clairesse was insistent now. But she had to be; every little thing was important.
The elevator sounded the arrival of one of its cars. The resident glanced up at the bell to see which set of doors would open, and then looked squarely at this girl full of questions.
“He said…‘Gerard.’ Pretty random thing to say when you come back from the dead, don’t you think?”
The doors opened, and the resident stepped inside, promising to get them Frank’s room number. Clairesse stood there after the doors had closed, thinking on what she had been told, and glanced back to where Gerard sat, shocked and nervous.
“Weird, huh? Only if you’ve never been in love.”
* * *
The sedatives had worn off a lot quicker than the resident had predicted. That, for the most part, was her doing. She needed him to be awake, and she had no time to wait for mortal medicines to run their course.
“Would you mind it terribly if I went in first?” Clairesse asked Gerard in her soft-spoken way when they reached Frank’s room.
Gerard shook his head. “Go ahead. I think I’m still trying to pull myself together, y’know? I’m not ready to see him there yet, attached to machines and IVs.”
Resting a momentary hand on the vocalist’s shoulder, Clairesse gave him a small nod and slipped quietly into the small room, closing the door behind her. The faint scent of medicine and bleach wrinkled her nose; how she hated hospitals. The contrast of neatness and cleanliness in a place full of disease and death… But there was no disease in here--and there was certainly no death either. There was just the steady beeping of a heart monitor eclipsing the steady sound of breathing. And the young man quietly lying on the bed was the source of both.
Clairesse let out a grin as she neared the bed. “You…should have been lawyer, you know that? Finding the smallest of loopholes… Making the grandest of sacrifices.”
“Where’s--” Frank coughed, and thought his chest was going to rip in half. “Where’s Gerard?”
“He’s outside. He’s safe…thanks to you.”
“Thank God…”
“God had nothing to do with it. You’re just very stubborn.”
Frank chuckled, and an awkward silence settled onto them. Each was trying to study the other to the steady beat of the heart monitor, with no insight gained by either one. And then Clairesse went to the window, staring out at the bright, clear afternoon…and that was when he noticed the back of her trench coat for the first time. The design sewn into the fabric… It hadn’t been there before, when they first met, and he couldn’t remember whether or not he had seen it when they met earlier that morning. He thought to say something about it, to ask her what it meant. But--as seemed to be her habit--she spoke first.
“What made you do it?”
Frank blinked, momentarily forgetting his situation. “Do what?”
“Push him out of the way. What made you take the bullets for him?” She paused, and her voice dropped a little lower. “What made you suddenly so willing to die for him?”
The guitarist thought on it a moment, wondering how best to answer. “I just… I honestly don’t know. I just saw the guy there, with the gun aimed at Gerard, and…and I just acted. I didn’t have time to really think about the fact that I could have died.”
He closed his eyes, flashing back to that initial moment. Even in reflection, he couldn’t slow the frames down enough to get a clear idea of what he might have been thinking, but he felt he had a strong enough guess.
“I just knew that if I didn’t do…something…that I’d lose him forever. And something inside of me couldn’t cope with that. And I realized…I realized--”
Frank cleared his throat, swallowed, cleared his throat again. Before he knew it, his wounded chest burned from a small coughing fit passing through his body. Clairesse crossed the room, her steps silent, and helped him drink water left on the bedside table.
“Don’t talk so much,” she said, setting the cup down when he was finished. “I know. I was there the whole time; I saw you push him out of the way. And here I had been following you all day to make sure things went as planned. But you…you had to go and surprise me.”
With a faint grin, the guitarist looked up at her through tired eyes. He would be drifting off to sleep soon--he could feel exhaustion enveloping him as comfortably as the blankets of his bed--but he fought it. He wanted to see Gerard before he rested, to know he was still alive.
And to tell him…to tell him how much he really loved him.
Clairesse mirrored his smile. “I have a story for you, Frank. Do you want to hear it?”
He had a feeling she would tell him anyway, so he nodded.
“That day at the park…the first day we met, when you asked me to make him fall in love with you… I didn’t do a thing. I never had to. If you hadn’t been so shy and involved with your own feelings, you would have noticed from a mile away how he felt about you.”
The information took a minute to pass through the layer of exhaustion circling its way around Frank’s mind. When it sank in fully, however, his eyes grew wide. She chuckled softly.
“I told you, I don’t force people to fall in love with each other. It breaks the rules. My kind--we just set things in motion, sit back, and watch the show. Testing you… Well, I’m sorry for that. I guess I’m just overprotective when it comes to souls like his.”
She kissed him gently on the forehead, and then headed to the door, pulling a pair of black gloves from the pocket of her coat.
“You’re a good man, Frank Iero. Stubborn as a mule, but a good man. Perfect for him.”
“What happens now?” Frank asked, barely above a whisper.
She looked over at him, smiling in a gentle way he never thought possible for her. There was a wistful look in her brown eyes.
“Now? I make my exit, never to return; you both get to live happily ever after. Or as close as you can get to it, anyway.”
They shared a chuckle, and though her smile faded, she still looked wistful-but maybe a little hopeful too.
“So long, Frank.”
With the heavy effort of the tired, Frank raised a hand in farewell. “So long, Clairesse. And thank you…”
And as she slipped out of the door, his eyes again caught the design sewn into the back of her gray coat, and he smiled.
* * *
Gerard looked up at the sound of the door opening. Clairesse stood in the doorway, looking back at him. Her hands were buried in the front pockets of her gray coat.
“Well?”
She half-smiled at him. “He’s doing fine. A little exhausted, but that’s to be expected. You should go see him before he drifts off to sleep again.”
The vocalist nodded, getting to his feet and slowly approaching her. “I don’t think I can ever thank you enough. I mean…if you hadn’t been there--”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clairesse said softly. “Sometimes things are just meant to happen, and you just have to accept them for that.”
Gerard nodded slowly. “Still, if there’s ever anything I can do--”
“One thing,” she said, taking her hands between his. “You can do one thing for me.”
He smiled a little. “Name it.”
Clairesse looked up at him, into his eyes. “In that room, there’s a guy who really and truly loves you. He loves so much he took two bullets in the chest for you today. He actually even died for you today, even if only for several minutes.
“So…if there is anything you can do for me, Gerard, it’s this: Take care of him. He’s stubborn as hell and maybe even a pain in the ass sometimes. But underneath all of that, he’s a good man. And it doesn’t take Eros to know you’re what matters most to his heart.”
Gerard’s smile grew wider. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Clairesse smiled. “For the first time in a long time, I actually believe that.”
She did something he didn’t expect; letting go of his hands, Clairesse slipped her arms around Gerard’s neck and hugged him. Not only that, she kissed him on the cheek as well! He let out a small, startled laugh, and did the only thing you could do when hugged by a woman who helped to save your boyfriend’s life--he hugged her back.
“Souls like you give me hope for the future,” Clairesse told him when she released him. “I have a feeling our paths won’t cross again for a while, but one never really knows the future, do they?”
Gerard shook his head. “No… But it’s better that way.”
Clairesse smiled and nodded. “So long, Gerard. Remember, take care of each other.”
And before he could reassure her that he would, she was walking away and towards the elevators, gloved hands in the pockets of her coat. Gerard smiled fondly, thinking of her words as he prepared himself to go into the room. The sound of an elevator bell dinging made him pause and look up--and that was when he noticed the design sewn into the back of her coat. The one he had never noticed before…because he was certain it had never been there before now.
The design… It looked just like a pair of angel wings.
Suddenly, amusement struck him and he thought about asking her whether the myth about angels and bells was true. But she was in the elevator and gone before he could even get the complete nerve to ask, and as he opened the door into Frankie’s room, Gerard thought it was better that way.
Besides, he could always just ask the angel waiting for him inside.
Wow. I finished a necessary letter and a story. Go me! ^__^
Anyway. I'm breaking it down the way I'm about to break down the details, because I plan on submitting it to The Immortality Project fansite later, so...yeah. >.> Anyway. Read & Review, yes? ^_^
Title: A Walk in the Park
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Rating: Uh...PG, I guess.
Pairing: Frankie/Gerard. (Shut up. XD)
Disclaimer: Obviously, you guys know that it's only a dream for me to know them. And I'm pretty sure nothing like this ever happened. And...um...yeah. That's it. >.>
PS - I'm terrible with summaries, and this story's just the kind that refuses to be nice and offer me an easy summary, so if someone could read it and then maybe help me hammer one out, I'd love you forever. ^_^
A Walk in the Park
It was the middle of November when they met up. It was just after Thanksgiving, and the light was fading early from the world, throwing a sleepy golden glow onto everything it touched. The pre-winter air brushed across their faces, chilling the skin. An old couple walked by, smiling at them as they went past. Glancing first at the young woman sitting next to him, Frank Iero returned the smile.
They must think we’re dating, he thought.
Frank sat next to this girl in the park because he had gotten a note a week before telling him to do so, because a month before that he had saved her life from a group of neighborhood punks. Clairesse, she had her name was; and after a very peculiar conversation, they had parted ways and he thought little of her or that day…until the not appeared, that is. It had been waiting for him on the kitchen table when Frank had awakened to the sound of Gerard singing in the kitchen as he made his coffee. There had been nothing to mark where it had come from--only his name written in the most beautiful cursive he’d ever seen. The handwriting had vaguely reminded him of Harry Potter--the way everyone wrote with quills, making letters the way only quills could make them with their strange points…
“It was sitting on the front porch when I went to check the mail,” Gerard had said. “I figured you’d want me to bring it in, since it looks like it might rain and…well, it’s got your name on it.”
Frank had picked up the powder blue envelope cautiously, turning it over in his hands. “You didn’t see anyone drop it off?”
“Hm?” Gerard, who had been busying himself with the coffeemaker, abandoned that in favor of standing next to Frank. He looked down at the envelope before shaking his head. “Nope.”
With an increased sense of caution, Frank opened the envelope and pulled out the small piece of paper inside. It was colored the same hue as the envelope, and the handwriting was the same as on the envelope…but it was the almost-cryptic message that caught the guitarist off guard:
Meet me at the park an hour before the sun starts to set.
Don’t worry about what day; you’ll know when.
Don’t worry about where in the park; you’ll know where.
“Huh.”
Frank had folded the note back up and returned it to the envelope without reading it aloud. Gerard hadn’t asked what it said, content with the brief glance and preferring not to pry.
“I wonder who it’s from.”
Like he had really needed to wonder. Frank knew who it was who had left him the note. He remembered wishing he hadn’t known (although why he felt that way, he still couldn’t really say) but he knew. Memories of that day in the park had returned with unusual clarity.
“Maybe it’s just some local fan. Or maybe it’s a secret admirer,” Gerard had said, and the grin he had flashed Frank then was one that brightened his heart.
“Jealous?”
And that was when Gerard had slipped an arm about the guitarist’s waist and kissed him tenderly.
“Why should I be jealous? I know you’re mine…”
“So…are you happy?”
“Huh?”
Frank was startled out of his reverie by her soft voice. She always spoke softly, as though everything she said was some secret meant only for the people sitting near her. It made him a little nervous, but he couldn’t figure out why. Clairesse merely threw a glance in his direction, her earth-brown eyes gauging the emotion in his hazel ones. Her mouth stretched into a soft smile.
“Do you always startle this easily?”
He sighed, shoving his gloved hands into the pockets of his hooded jacket and glancing briefly down at his shoes. It was the perfect gesture of uncertainty.
“I asked you if you were happy,” she said. “Everything you’ve told me so far…suggests to me that you’re happy.”
“That’s because I am happy.”
The minute the words left his mouth, he knew he had answered to quickly for it to be true. But it was true. Frank was happy. He couldn’t be any happier--not even if Clairesse had surprised him with a fully restored Pansy. But that she questioned his happiness made him feel strange. There was nothing malicious or blatantly foreboding in her tone, but all the same… He couldn’t help feeling a bit defensive.
“I’m happy,” Frank said again, slowly. “I have the one thing I want most in life, and if it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be miserable.”
And how miserable he had been, trying not to be in love with Gerard when it was all he could think of. Every time the vocalist smiled or laughed…every time he set his hazel eyes in Frank’s specific direction… It was almost too much. But Frank had tried to resist it in order to save himself the sting of rejection. He had almost succeeded in convincing himself that it was just a silly crush--that Gerard had never and would never feel the same way--and then a modern-day damsel in distress had come along to unwittingly provide the answer to his problems.
So then why did he feel like she was about to bring problems in his direction?
“I still have regrets about it, Frank. I still wonder if breaking the biggest rule I’m told to follow was worth it. From what you’ve said, things have been nothing short of perfect for you and him, but I wonder… It’s only been a month.”
“And it’s been the best month of my life.”
“But it’s only been a month. You can’t predict the heart’s future weather with just a month. And it’s not you I worry about; it’s Gerard.”
Frank looked at Clairesse almost incredulously. “What do you mean?”
“A person with an open heart like his is more vulnerable than you could imagine. If you broke up with him now…there’s no telling how he would react. I know what would have to happen…as do you.”
Slowly he nodded. He remembered that part of whatever deal they had made one month ago. But he was more than certain that there would never come a time where that end of the bargain would have to be fulfilled. He loved Gerard--would love Gerard until the day he died and even beyond that, if it were possible. Clairesse was fretting over nothing. She was making him nervous with her cryptic talk of doom and gloom, when Frank knew in his heart that things--apart from the usual ups and downs in a relationship--would be fine.
“Frank?”
“Hm?”
Clairesse hesitated a moment. “Well…it’s just… Don’t be so ignorant as to think that I’m so detached from the world as to believe that people don’t change over time. Change is a basic law of nature; without it, you and I wouldn’t be sitting here. But try to understand this: I may not look it, but I have had more time than you have had to figure out the general rules surrounding human nature. Love is an oft-mistreated thing--especially nowadays.
“Promise me that you won’t be like others. I have faith that you won’t be, but just promise me that much. He’s too precious to lose. Take care of him; lie to him if you have to. Because believe you me…I don’t want to hurt him.”
Frank smiled at her a little. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Clairesse looked at him soberly.
“For Gerard’s sake, I had better not.”
* * *
Time passes, and people change.
And one day, during the hours of the morning when the world was still dark, Frank came to the sudden realization that he was no longer in love with the vocalist. Oh, he cared about him a great deal--would be completely lost if something ever happened to him--but he just…didn’t…love him the way he used to. He wondered where this feeling had come from, when it had first started to grow like a stealthy weed. Had there been some major act to mark the division between the days when he would have given anything to constantly be in Gerard’s presence and tonight?
Further startled, Frank sat up in bed. He could think of nothing that had happened to change the course of his feelings. Nothing. Neither a single word nor action hid in his memory to spark this sudden change. It was as if one moment he had been completely in love with Gerard, and then…nothing. Emptiness, maybe. A sense of deep caring, perhaps. But that was all.
Well…no, that was not all. Because the moment Frank accepted this new truth, a memory several months old escaped from the vault of his mind. Against his will, he remembered a chilly day in November, when the sun had given everything a sleepy, golden glow.
He remembered sitting on a bench in a park, and he remembered the girl who had sat with him.
He remembered their conversation.
And perhaps more important than everything else, he remembered the promise he had agreed to keep.
“Promise me that you won’t be like others. I have faith that you won’t be, but just promise me that much. He’s too precious to lose. Take care of him; lie to him if you have to. Because believe you me…I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Oh, my God.”
Taking care to be as quiet as possible, Frank slipped out of bed and got dressed. He needed to take a walk.
* * *
She was sitting on the same park bench when he reached the park, dressed almost in the same clothes--down to that damned gray coat. If she noticed him before he sat down and lowered the hood of his jacket, she gave no sign. Frank had a feeling she had, of course; she was unusually perceptive, so why wouldn’t she? She glanced at him, and he caught a look so full of sadness that he thought there were tears…
Her gaze snapped away before he could verify it, but he watched her hand discreetly move across her face.
“I knew it would happen sooner or later. I had hoped that it wouldn’t. That maybe you would be different from all the others. But…” Clairesse sighed, letting the sentence die out. “You remember the rules, don’t you?”
Slowly, Frank nodded. “But there has to be another way. I can’t-- I just--”
“It’s the rules, Frank. I cannot break them or even bend them. I just set things in motion.”
“But Gerard… He didn’t do a thing. He had no--”
“Control?” Clairesse flashed the guitarist a bitter smile. “And who do we thank for that, Mr. Iero? ‘He haunts my thoughts. Every time he smiles at me, my heart jumps. Every time he looks at me, I’m scared to look back, because of what he might see in my eyes.’ Isn’t that what you said to me, that day in the park when we first met? And look at you now. Not even a year, Frank. Not even a year, and now I--”
Suddenly she stopped and chuckled bitterly. This time, when the tears started down her face, she didn’t wipe them discreetly away. Frank tried to speak and found himself at a loss for words. It was his fault, all of it. He should have known better than to be so drastic, should have thought about the consequences, but his heart had been too strong to resist. It had commanded, and now…
“I could have given you anything else in the world, but you had to go and pick the one thing it was against the rules for me to do. And against my better judgment, I did it for you anyway. Even when I knew it was wrong, I opened his heart to you, hoping you of all people would understand how fragile that makes someone. But in the end you were like the rest.”
Even though anger edged her voice, she barely raised it above normal speaking level; somehow, that was worse than the idea of her yelling at him.
“What will happen to him?” he asked softly.
Clairesse shook her head. “You don’t want to know ahead of time. Not when you have to be there to see it. It just makes things worse.”
Frank gave a bitter snort. “Is that in the rules, too?”
“Actually it is. You set up the deal…you have to be there to watch it be undone.”
“Then I won’t be there. He won’t be there.”
“You can’t avoid fate, Frank. Not when you set it up yourself. And Gerard certainly can’t avoid it.”
“But why him? Why not me instead? Why does he have to die for something I did to him?”
“Noble words, Frank. Beautiful words. But they’re meaningless. They won’t stop what has to happen,” Clairesse said.
“I won’t let him die.”
Clairesse looked over at him, smiling softly, sadly. “You should have thought of that beforehand.”
Frank tensed his jaw to keep from screaming at her. The hint of tears stung at the corner of his eyes. How could she be so cold? She could make anything happen. Why couldn’t she stop this? Frank could see the reluctance in her face; Clairesse didn’t want to kill him any more than he wanted Gerard to die. So why..?
Why…why…why. The world was full of people asking, “Why?” In the great scheme of things, he was just one more person. In the great scheme of things, it didn’t matter how many times he asked. It wouldn’t change the course of anything. Frank understood that now.
And he hated it.
“Enjoy today,” Clairesse said to him as she rose. “And don’t be late for your appointment with fate.”
* * *
Things happened so quickly that Gerard wasn’t able to piece the events into a single coherent memory until much later, when he was sitting outside of the emergency room praying for things to go well. And even then, his mind was still hazy on the facts, but as far as he knew, things happened the way he pieced them together.
The day had started out well enough. Frank had been in the kitchen when he awoke, already dressed and making breakfast. With a sly grin, Gerard had snuck up behind him, snaking his arms around the younger man’s waist and stealing a kiss when Frank turned his head.
“Morning,” he had said.
Frank had smiled, but there had been something…off about it. “Morning.”
Gerard frowned, immediately jumping to the chase. “What’s wrong?”
“What?”
“You seem…I don’t know.” The vocalist had shrugged and gone towards the coffeepot. There had been nothing in it, and nothing in the cupboard with which to make that lovely source of caffeine, and he remembered frowning at that. “No coffee? What’s the world coming to?”
Frank had chuckled at that, but even that had seemed a bit off. “I was gonna run to the store… But what made you ask?”
Gerard had shrugged again. “You just kind of look like… I don’t know. Like you didn’t sleep well.”
“Nightmares,” was all the guitarist would say, and in the next moment he was turning off the stove and suggesting they go out for breakfast instead of staying in. “My treat. We’ll even go to Starbucks first. Besides, there’s this neat little park I’d been wanting to take you to…”
And not one to resist Frank (or an offer of Starbucks, for that matter), Gerard had more than happily agreed. And the coffee had been wonderful, and breakfast had been wonderful…and being with Frank on such a clear day had been--naturally--wonderful. But then they had gone to the park, and everything had changed. At that damn park--that’s where everything had gone from wonderful to terrifying. Where it was Gerard’s turn to have a nightmare. Only his nightmare was real--too real.
He wasn’t sure of how it happened, exactly, or where the strange guy had come from, for that matter. One minute it had just been him and Frank, walking hand-in-hand on one of the paths beset on both sides by tall trees…and then suddenly they were ambushed by a man wielding a gun, demanding their wallets and threatening to shoot.
And then…somehow…things had gotten worse. Before Gerard could realize it, they had gotten so much worse. The robber had realized they were a couple--because, in their fear, they had stupidly continued to hold hands rather than let go--and freaked. He had freaked, and after shouting things that Gerard couldn’t remember, he had raised the gun and fired. And the vocalist was more than sure that the bullets had been meant for him, but somehow--
“Gerard!”
Startled, Gerard looked up, hearing the scream in his head as clearly as he hadn’t in the park, before Frank had shoved him hard to the ground. He had watched with a scream of his own as the first bullet struck the guitarist in the chest, just beneath the sternum, and screamed again as the second bullet hit near the entrance of the first Frank had stumbled backward and fallen with a heavy thud, letting out a sick groan. Blood had poured freely from his wounds, from his mouth and nose. He had coughed, and more of the red fluid escaped. And the robber had disappeared, dropping the gun and taking off the opposite way without the wallets he had demanded in the first place, leaving Gerard and Frank to deal with the nightmare he had thrown onto them.
Gerard had heard stories about how you were never supposed to move the injured, but it hadn’t mattered then. For all he knew, Frankie was dying; for all he knew, there was no hope of help arriving soon enough to stop that. So with the greatest care, he had gathered the younger man into his arms, cradling his head in the crook of his shoulder.
“Frank! Frankie, God…stay with me. Don’t die on me, please… Hang on. Help will come, Frankie, just-just hang on, okay? Just hang on…”
But Gerard had already begun to doubt that help of any sort would save his love; for all the pressure he had applied on the wounds, Gerard could feel the blood flowing through his fingers, staining his pale hands as easily as it had stained his and Frankie’s clothes. The fear of losing him had been enough to strengthen the sobs already escaping his body. And then Frankie had spoken--or tried to speak, rather. But each attempt to form the words had ended in him cough up more blood instead. With whatever strength he had left, he had reached for Gerard’s hand and held it as tight as he could. If he couldn’t speak, he had to get his message through another way…
And then, like a phantom, that young woman had appeared.
The one in the charcoal gray trench coat.
The one who was now standing near him in the waiting room, holding a cup of coffee between her hands.
Gerard looked up, startled, and she in turn looked a bit surprised.
“I’m sorry… I should have made my presence known. I… Coffee?”
She held the cup out to him, and he--being too confused to refuse--took it.
“It’s not as good as Starbucks, I’m afraid, but it will have to do,” she said softly, sitting down across from him. “How is he?”
Gerard shrugged a little, staring down at the cup in his hands. “They haven’t said anything yet. And I’m starting to think that--that maybe they’re just…trying to figure out how to tell me he’s dead.”
She looked at him sympathetically. “Have some faith. I’m sure they’re doing everything they can.”
“I don’t even know how it could have happened. Things were going so well today. The day was just…perfect, y’know? As perfect as a day could get. And then… And now…”
Before he knew it, he was fighting tears again, scared freshly back into the idea that Frank was dead or close to dying. Letting out a deep breath, Gerard ran a hand over his face and through his hair, trying to compose himself, trying to keep as calm as possible. He looked over at the young woman in the trench coat.
“We were lucky, I guess… I mean, if you hadn’t shown up, he might not have had any chance at all. At least here…” He sniffled and smiled weakly. “Here he’s got one, right?”
With a weak smile of her own, she nodded. “Things will work the way they’re supposed to, Gerard. Frank is a tough guy; he won’t give up so easily. Not with you by his side.”
The vocalist blinked. “You know my name?”
She nodded. “And Frank. But I know him a bit better.”
“How do you know him? Are you two friends?”
“Well…I guess you could say that. Acquaintances, really…”
Gerard made a strange sound, the cross between a chuckle and a scoff. “Talk about luck, then.”
“More like fate,” she said quietly. And then, after a pause, “My name’s Clairesse, by the way.”
“Clairesse. That’s pretty.”
“Thanks, I guess. I hate it, but…” She shrugged.
He took a moment to actually drink the coffee he’d been offered, letting the name sink in. It struck him as odd that he could not remember a time that Frank had ever mentioned a girl by that name, even in passing. He set the coffee down.
“You know, he’s never mentioned you before.”
“Proof that we’re just acquaintances,” Clairesse answered. “But he saved my life once--although I don’t think he’s aware of it. It was a small thing, but really, it’s the smallest things that often have the biggest effects.”
Gerard nodded. “That’s insightful.”
“That’s the truth.” She hesitated a bit before adding, “He talked a lot about you, though.”
“Did he?” When she nodded again, he felt familiar defenses begin to build. “So then you know--?”
“Yes. But you’re in safe company, I assure you. Actually…I feel rather conceited admitting this to you, but if I had never met him--”
The sound of footsteps interrupted whatever Clairesse was going to say. Both of them turned their heads as a doctor in scrubs walked towards them, pulling off his paper cap and mask as he did. Gerard and Clairesse rose slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the vocalist already begin to wring his hands.
“H-h-how is he?” Gerard asked.
The doctor took in a breath. “Well, he lost a lot of blood between when he was shot and here, and for a while it was touch and go with him. He actually…actually flat-lined on us once, when we were trying to get the second bullet out--”
Gerard sank back down to his seat, hazel eyes wide, fearful. He couldn’t remember exactly how to breathe.
“--but we did manage to stabilize him. And it’s almost a miracle that the bullets missed anything serious. Any higher or lower and her would have--”
Clairesse cut him off. “We get the picture, Doc. Thanks.”
The doctor nodded, managing a subtle sympathetic smile. “The nurses are moving him up to a room; as soon as I get the number from them, you can go on up. We gave him some sedatives to make it easier for him to sleep, so I wouldn’t expect much until the morning, other than the fact that he should be alright to go home in a few days.”
The vocalist nodded numbly, and the doctor turned to leave. Clairesse followed him, curious to know something, and waited until they were by the elevators (and thus out of Gerard’s earshot) to speak with him.
“Can I ask you something?”
The doctor nodded. “Sure.”
“Okay… This may sound strange, but…” She sighed. “You said Frank flat-lined on you once while you were working on him?”
“That’s correct.”
“How long was he gone?”
The doctor blinked. What an unusual question for someone to ask. But then, he was just a resident and this had been his first gunshot victim, so maybe the “vets” heard this question more often. He tried to think back to the chaos of the room, to the moment when a single, monotone beep scared every doctor in the room into an even more chaotic frenzy.
“Five…five minutes, I would say. We were all pretty sure he wasn’t going to make it, and then…” He shrugged. “It was a regular miracle, when you think about it. Most doctors give up after two or three minutes.”
“Did he say anything?”
“What?”
“A strange question, I know. But did he say anything?”
The doctor tried to think, and remembered--or thought he remembered, since things could get so crazy in there that reality simply blurred--hearing a choked voice that could only have belonged to the patient.
“Now that you mention it, yeah, he did. It was right after the last shock we gave him, the one that finally revived him. I was standing right next to him when he spoke.”
“What did he say? Do you remember?” Clairesse was insistent now. But she had to be; every little thing was important.
The elevator sounded the arrival of one of its cars. The resident glanced up at the bell to see which set of doors would open, and then looked squarely at this girl full of questions.
“He said…‘Gerard.’ Pretty random thing to say when you come back from the dead, don’t you think?”
The doors opened, and the resident stepped inside, promising to get them Frank’s room number. Clairesse stood there after the doors had closed, thinking on what she had been told, and glanced back to where Gerard sat, shocked and nervous.
“Weird, huh? Only if you’ve never been in love.”
* * *
The sedatives had worn off a lot quicker than the resident had predicted. That, for the most part, was her doing. She needed him to be awake, and she had no time to wait for mortal medicines to run their course.
“Would you mind it terribly if I went in first?” Clairesse asked Gerard in her soft-spoken way when they reached Frank’s room.
Gerard shook his head. “Go ahead. I think I’m still trying to pull myself together, y’know? I’m not ready to see him there yet, attached to machines and IVs.”
Resting a momentary hand on the vocalist’s shoulder, Clairesse gave him a small nod and slipped quietly into the small room, closing the door behind her. The faint scent of medicine and bleach wrinkled her nose; how she hated hospitals. The contrast of neatness and cleanliness in a place full of disease and death… But there was no disease in here--and there was certainly no death either. There was just the steady beeping of a heart monitor eclipsing the steady sound of breathing. And the young man quietly lying on the bed was the source of both.
Clairesse let out a grin as she neared the bed. “You…should have been lawyer, you know that? Finding the smallest of loopholes… Making the grandest of sacrifices.”
“Where’s--” Frank coughed, and thought his chest was going to rip in half. “Where’s Gerard?”
“He’s outside. He’s safe…thanks to you.”
“Thank God…”
“God had nothing to do with it. You’re just very stubborn.”
Frank chuckled, and an awkward silence settled onto them. Each was trying to study the other to the steady beat of the heart monitor, with no insight gained by either one. And then Clairesse went to the window, staring out at the bright, clear afternoon…and that was when he noticed the back of her trench coat for the first time. The design sewn into the fabric… It hadn’t been there before, when they first met, and he couldn’t remember whether or not he had seen it when they met earlier that morning. He thought to say something about it, to ask her what it meant. But--as seemed to be her habit--she spoke first.
“What made you do it?”
Frank blinked, momentarily forgetting his situation. “Do what?”
“Push him out of the way. What made you take the bullets for him?” She paused, and her voice dropped a little lower. “What made you suddenly so willing to die for him?”
The guitarist thought on it a moment, wondering how best to answer. “I just… I honestly don’t know. I just saw the guy there, with the gun aimed at Gerard, and…and I just acted. I didn’t have time to really think about the fact that I could have died.”
He closed his eyes, flashing back to that initial moment. Even in reflection, he couldn’t slow the frames down enough to get a clear idea of what he might have been thinking, but he felt he had a strong enough guess.
“I just knew that if I didn’t do…something…that I’d lose him forever. And something inside of me couldn’t cope with that. And I realized…I realized--”
Frank cleared his throat, swallowed, cleared his throat again. Before he knew it, his wounded chest burned from a small coughing fit passing through his body. Clairesse crossed the room, her steps silent, and helped him drink water left on the bedside table.
“Don’t talk so much,” she said, setting the cup down when he was finished. “I know. I was there the whole time; I saw you push him out of the way. And here I had been following you all day to make sure things went as planned. But you…you had to go and surprise me.”
With a faint grin, the guitarist looked up at her through tired eyes. He would be drifting off to sleep soon--he could feel exhaustion enveloping him as comfortably as the blankets of his bed--but he fought it. He wanted to see Gerard before he rested, to know he was still alive.
And to tell him…to tell him how much he really loved him.
Clairesse mirrored his smile. “I have a story for you, Frank. Do you want to hear it?”
He had a feeling she would tell him anyway, so he nodded.
“That day at the park…the first day we met, when you asked me to make him fall in love with you… I didn’t do a thing. I never had to. If you hadn’t been so shy and involved with your own feelings, you would have noticed from a mile away how he felt about you.”
The information took a minute to pass through the layer of exhaustion circling its way around Frank’s mind. When it sank in fully, however, his eyes grew wide. She chuckled softly.
“I told you, I don’t force people to fall in love with each other. It breaks the rules. My kind--we just set things in motion, sit back, and watch the show. Testing you… Well, I’m sorry for that. I guess I’m just overprotective when it comes to souls like his.”
She kissed him gently on the forehead, and then headed to the door, pulling a pair of black gloves from the pocket of her coat.
“You’re a good man, Frank Iero. Stubborn as a mule, but a good man. Perfect for him.”
“What happens now?” Frank asked, barely above a whisper.
She looked over at him, smiling in a gentle way he never thought possible for her. There was a wistful look in her brown eyes.
“Now? I make my exit, never to return; you both get to live happily ever after. Or as close as you can get to it, anyway.”
They shared a chuckle, and though her smile faded, she still looked wistful-but maybe a little hopeful too.
“So long, Frank.”
With the heavy effort of the tired, Frank raised a hand in farewell. “So long, Clairesse. And thank you…”
And as she slipped out of the door, his eyes again caught the design sewn into the back of her gray coat, and he smiled.
* * *
Gerard looked up at the sound of the door opening. Clairesse stood in the doorway, looking back at him. Her hands were buried in the front pockets of her gray coat.
“Well?”
She half-smiled at him. “He’s doing fine. A little exhausted, but that’s to be expected. You should go see him before he drifts off to sleep again.”
The vocalist nodded, getting to his feet and slowly approaching her. “I don’t think I can ever thank you enough. I mean…if you hadn’t been there--”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clairesse said softly. “Sometimes things are just meant to happen, and you just have to accept them for that.”
Gerard nodded slowly. “Still, if there’s ever anything I can do--”
“One thing,” she said, taking her hands between his. “You can do one thing for me.”
He smiled a little. “Name it.”
Clairesse looked up at him, into his eyes. “In that room, there’s a guy who really and truly loves you. He loves so much he took two bullets in the chest for you today. He actually even died for you today, even if only for several minutes.
“So…if there is anything you can do for me, Gerard, it’s this: Take care of him. He’s stubborn as hell and maybe even a pain in the ass sometimes. But underneath all of that, he’s a good man. And it doesn’t take Eros to know you’re what matters most to his heart.”
Gerard’s smile grew wider. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Clairesse smiled. “For the first time in a long time, I actually believe that.”
She did something he didn’t expect; letting go of his hands, Clairesse slipped her arms around Gerard’s neck and hugged him. Not only that, she kissed him on the cheek as well! He let out a small, startled laugh, and did the only thing you could do when hugged by a woman who helped to save your boyfriend’s life--he hugged her back.
“Souls like you give me hope for the future,” Clairesse told him when she released him. “I have a feeling our paths won’t cross again for a while, but one never really knows the future, do they?”
Gerard shook his head. “No… But it’s better that way.”
Clairesse smiled and nodded. “So long, Gerard. Remember, take care of each other.”
And before he could reassure her that he would, she was walking away and towards the elevators, gloved hands in the pockets of her coat. Gerard smiled fondly, thinking of her words as he prepared himself to go into the room. The sound of an elevator bell dinging made him pause and look up--and that was when he noticed the design sewn into the back of her coat. The one he had never noticed before…because he was certain it had never been there before now.
The design… It looked just like a pair of angel wings.
Suddenly, amusement struck him and he thought about asking her whether the myth about angels and bells was true. But she was in the elevator and gone before he could even get the complete nerve to ask, and as he opened the door into Frankie’s room, Gerard thought it was better that way.
Besides, he could always just ask the angel waiting for him inside.