"We're Not Invincible" - Thirteen
"We're Not Invincible"
Chapter Thirteen
Gerard sat exhausted in a chair behind his spot at Frank’s kitchen table. As Frank rummaged through his refrigerator for a breakfast Gerard would find decent, Gerard stared at Frank’s cell phone, willing himself to call the police station. “Frank,” he said, glancing over at his friend who had then closed the refrigerator door. “Is there a number to call the police station? Not 9-1-1. Just to call them if it isn’t an emergency?”
Frank hummed, trying to recall any such number. He hadn’t a clue though, as he’s never had a reason to call the police station. “I’d bet on it. Call information, ask them for it.” He took a seat next to Gerard, deciding to make breakfast later.
“Okay.” Gerard, with shaking, nervous fingers, typed into the phone’s keypad, 4… 1… 1. “Frank, what do I say when I get the police?” He hadn’t pressed the send key yet; he wanted to be prepared.
“Tell them your name first,” advised Frank. “Then, I guess ask them when you can come in.”
“Right,” Gerard mumbled, before pressing send with trembling fingers.
The phone had rung once before Gerard was greeted by the pleasant voice of a young woman. “Hello, how may I help you today?”
“H- hi…” Gerard muttered, his awkwardness and embarrassment becoming clear to him as he had no idea what to say to this woman who was waiting for him to speak. “Can I have the number for the police station? Not 9-1-1. If there is another number. Um, just to, er, talk to them about something?”
“Yes, there is another number for most stations. What town are you looking for?”
“Oh, sorry,” Gerard mumbled, feeling absolutely stupid, before telling the woman the name of the town in which he and Frank lived.
“Would you like me to connect you to them now?” The woman asked.
“Yes, thank you,” was Gerard’s reply, still quietly mumbled. The phone rang again, now with the police station on the other end.
“You’ve reached the police,” a man answered, stating also the name of the town. “How can I help you?”
“My name is Gerard Way,” Gerard exhaled. He said no more after that, and thankfully, the officer had known exactly why he called.
“I’m sorry about your loss, Mr. Way,” said the man. A nice gesture, Gerard though, so he thanked the man quietly. “You’re calling about that situation, am I correct?
“Yes,” Gerard said quickly.
“Would you like to come down to the station to discuss everything?”
“Yeah, okay,” Gerard breathed. “When?”
“Whenever you’d like.” The man then gave Gerard the address of the building.
“Today?” Gerard asked eagerly. Frank, who had been doing nothing but sitting at the band with his friend, was watching Gerard with a raised eyebrow. Hearing only one side of the conversation left him wondering what Gerard could have been talking about.
“That would be fine,” answered the man.
“Okay, thank you,” Gerard said quickly, before hanging up the phone, placing it on the table, and turning to Frank. “Can you drive me down to the police station?”
“Sure. Today, right?” replied Frank.
“Thanks so much, I’m gonna go get ready. Gerard was off and up the stairs.
Less than an hour had passed when Frank’s car was sitting in the parking lot of the police station and both men were entering the tiny building. “Mr. Way?” A man sitting at desk covered in a mess of papers with a telephone at the side asked as they walked in. By his voice, Gerard recognized him as the man he’d spoken to earlier.
“Yes,” Gerard sit, feeling a bit stupid again, as he had not much else to say.
“Would you be okay with answering a few questions today?” asked the man.
Gerard bit his lip and glanced nervously at Frank. His heart felt hot and heavy; he almost wished he could be rid of it to spare him the discomfort. Frank raised a worried eyebrow, hoping for Gerard to catch the message clearly written across his face: What’s wrong? “Can I talk to my friend outside first?” Gerard asked the man, before glancing again at Frank, who gave a small nod.
“Of course,” the man at the desk said, so Gerard made a small ‘follow me’ gesture with his hand, and Frank followed him outside the building.
Few feet outside of the glass double doorway, Gerard stopped walking promptly and spun around to face Frank, who’d stopped as well. “I’m so scared, Frank,” Gerard uttered softly. He ran both hands through the front of his hair and whimpered quietly as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
“Gee, it’s gonna be okay,” Frank assured, bringing a hand to Gerard’s shoulder and rubbing it soothingly. “They’re gonna help you, you know that. You did want to come here, right?”
“Right.” Gerard nodded, but his lips were trembling still, as well as his hands. “It’s- it’s not just that.”
“What is it then?” Frank asked urgently. He continued to rub Gerard’s shoulder, completely unsure of whether it helped or not, just wanting Gerard to know that he was there for him.
“You know I know who did it, well, I don’t know his name, but I do know who he is, kind of, and I guess they could just find his bar tab and find out who he is- oh!” Gerard’s eyes lit up a little before returning to their sad gloom. “But, well, I’d have to tell them. And I want to, but I can’t because I’d have to tell them why the guy did it, and I’d have to tell them about… me and Mikey…” His voiced trailed off and he cringed.
“Oh,” Frank breathed, cringing as well and biting his bottom lip. What he could possibly say, he wondered, not coming up with a thing. “Oh,” he just repeated, soft and full of heart.
“Frankie, what do I do?” Gerard shook, his eyes glistening, and Frank squeezed his shoulder harder, more reassuringly. Frank closed his eyes for barely a second, trying unsuccessfully to think, to come up with a solution that Gerard would be comfortable with. “I’m scared,” Gerard said again, softly, breaking the sad silence before wrapping Frank in a tight hug. Frank was quick to respond, squeezing back just as hard, and Gerard rested his head on Frank’s shoulder.
“Gee, I really think you should tell them,” Frank said, holding Gerard closer when he whimpered again.
“Should I?”
“It’s for the best, don’t you think so?” Gerard nodded against the top of Frank’s head. “You could tell them not to publish it or anything. Not to let it leave the room. You have to.”
“I do have to,” Gerard said, his voice weak. “Okay.”
“Are you ready?” Frank asked, concerned.
“As I’ll ever be,” replied Gerard quietly, before entering the building once again with Frank in tow, feeling better- not marginally better, but better all the same.
“You’ll be okay,” Frank said as they set foot through the doors again.
“Thank you,” Gerard whispered. The doors slammed shut behind the pair.
“Mr. Way,” greeted a man who was standing by the desk- Gerard faintly recognized him, but had trouble placing a name. “I don’t know if you remember me; I’m Detective Lazzara. We’ve talked.” Gerard nodded as he remembered. “Want to answer some questions and tell me what you know?”
“Yeah,” Gerard blurted, before taking a moment to collect himself. “I would. Where?”
“And interview room,” said the detective.
Gerard had a single question on his mind. “Is it private?”
“It is,” the detective told Gerard, who sighed, relieved.
“Can my friend come?” Gerard asked, gesturing to Frank.
The detective bit the inside of his cheek, clearly thinking. “Yes, he can,” he said finally.
Both Gerard and Frank followed the detective down a hallway and continued to follow when he turned unexpectedly into a room. The door was marked “Interview Room”. It wasn’t particularly fancy, just a plainly colored room with a wooden table and chairs. The detective sat on one side of the table while Gerard and Frank sat on the other.
“Mr. Way-“ the detective started, but Gerard cut him off in an instant.
“I know who did it,” Gerard breathed, and his chest tightened- he felt like he could pass out any second.
The detective raised his eyebrows and urged Gerard to continue.
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Chapter Thirteen
Gerard sat exhausted in a chair behind his spot at Frank’s kitchen table. As Frank rummaged through his refrigerator for a breakfast Gerard would find decent, Gerard stared at Frank’s cell phone, willing himself to call the police station. “Frank,” he said, glancing over at his friend who had then closed the refrigerator door. “Is there a number to call the police station? Not 9-1-1. Just to call them if it isn’t an emergency?”
Frank hummed, trying to recall any such number. He hadn’t a clue though, as he’s never had a reason to call the police station. “I’d bet on it. Call information, ask them for it.” He took a seat next to Gerard, deciding to make breakfast later.
“Okay.” Gerard, with shaking, nervous fingers, typed into the phone’s keypad, 4… 1… 1. “Frank, what do I say when I get the police?” He hadn’t pressed the send key yet; he wanted to be prepared.
“Tell them your name first,” advised Frank. “Then, I guess ask them when you can come in.”
“Right,” Gerard mumbled, before pressing send with trembling fingers.
The phone had rung once before Gerard was greeted by the pleasant voice of a young woman. “Hello, how may I help you today?”
“H- hi…” Gerard muttered, his awkwardness and embarrassment becoming clear to him as he had no idea what to say to this woman who was waiting for him to speak. “Can I have the number for the police station? Not 9-1-1. If there is another number. Um, just to, er, talk to them about something?”
“Yes, there is another number for most stations. What town are you looking for?”
“Oh, sorry,” Gerard mumbled, feeling absolutely stupid, before telling the woman the name of the town in which he and Frank lived.
“Would you like me to connect you to them now?” The woman asked.
“Yes, thank you,” was Gerard’s reply, still quietly mumbled. The phone rang again, now with the police station on the other end.
“You’ve reached the police,” a man answered, stating also the name of the town. “How can I help you?”
“My name is Gerard Way,” Gerard exhaled. He said no more after that, and thankfully, the officer had known exactly why he called.
“I’m sorry about your loss, Mr. Way,” said the man. A nice gesture, Gerard though, so he thanked the man quietly. “You’re calling about that situation, am I correct?
“Yes,” Gerard said quickly.
“Would you like to come down to the station to discuss everything?”
“Yeah, okay,” Gerard breathed. “When?”
“Whenever you’d like.” The man then gave Gerard the address of the building.
“Today?” Gerard asked eagerly. Frank, who had been doing nothing but sitting at the band with his friend, was watching Gerard with a raised eyebrow. Hearing only one side of the conversation left him wondering what Gerard could have been talking about.
“That would be fine,” answered the man.
“Okay, thank you,” Gerard said quickly, before hanging up the phone, placing it on the table, and turning to Frank. “Can you drive me down to the police station?”
“Sure. Today, right?” replied Frank.
“Thanks so much, I’m gonna go get ready. Gerard was off and up the stairs.
Less than an hour had passed when Frank’s car was sitting in the parking lot of the police station and both men were entering the tiny building. “Mr. Way?” A man sitting at desk covered in a mess of papers with a telephone at the side asked as they walked in. By his voice, Gerard recognized him as the man he’d spoken to earlier.
“Yes,” Gerard sit, feeling a bit stupid again, as he had not much else to say.
“Would you be okay with answering a few questions today?” asked the man.
Gerard bit his lip and glanced nervously at Frank. His heart felt hot and heavy; he almost wished he could be rid of it to spare him the discomfort. Frank raised a worried eyebrow, hoping for Gerard to catch the message clearly written across his face: What’s wrong? “Can I talk to my friend outside first?” Gerard asked the man, before glancing again at Frank, who gave a small nod.
“Of course,” the man at the desk said, so Gerard made a small ‘follow me’ gesture with his hand, and Frank followed him outside the building.
Few feet outside of the glass double doorway, Gerard stopped walking promptly and spun around to face Frank, who’d stopped as well. “I’m so scared, Frank,” Gerard uttered softly. He ran both hands through the front of his hair and whimpered quietly as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
“Gee, it’s gonna be okay,” Frank assured, bringing a hand to Gerard’s shoulder and rubbing it soothingly. “They’re gonna help you, you know that. You did want to come here, right?”
“Right.” Gerard nodded, but his lips were trembling still, as well as his hands. “It’s- it’s not just that.”
“What is it then?” Frank asked urgently. He continued to rub Gerard’s shoulder, completely unsure of whether it helped or not, just wanting Gerard to know that he was there for him.
“You know I know who did it, well, I don’t know his name, but I do know who he is, kind of, and I guess they could just find his bar tab and find out who he is- oh!” Gerard’s eyes lit up a little before returning to their sad gloom. “But, well, I’d have to tell them. And I want to, but I can’t because I’d have to tell them why the guy did it, and I’d have to tell them about… me and Mikey…” His voiced trailed off and he cringed.
“Oh,” Frank breathed, cringing as well and biting his bottom lip. What he could possibly say, he wondered, not coming up with a thing. “Oh,” he just repeated, soft and full of heart.
“Frankie, what do I do?” Gerard shook, his eyes glistening, and Frank squeezed his shoulder harder, more reassuringly. Frank closed his eyes for barely a second, trying unsuccessfully to think, to come up with a solution that Gerard would be comfortable with. “I’m scared,” Gerard said again, softly, breaking the sad silence before wrapping Frank in a tight hug. Frank was quick to respond, squeezing back just as hard, and Gerard rested his head on Frank’s shoulder.
“Gee, I really think you should tell them,” Frank said, holding Gerard closer when he whimpered again.
“Should I?”
“It’s for the best, don’t you think so?” Gerard nodded against the top of Frank’s head. “You could tell them not to publish it or anything. Not to let it leave the room. You have to.”
“I do have to,” Gerard said, his voice weak. “Okay.”
“Are you ready?” Frank asked, concerned.
“As I’ll ever be,” replied Gerard quietly, before entering the building once again with Frank in tow, feeling better- not marginally better, but better all the same.
“You’ll be okay,” Frank said as they set foot through the doors again.
“Thank you,” Gerard whispered. The doors slammed shut behind the pair.
“Mr. Way,” greeted a man who was standing by the desk- Gerard faintly recognized him, but had trouble placing a name. “I don’t know if you remember me; I’m Detective Lazzara. We’ve talked.” Gerard nodded as he remembered. “Want to answer some questions and tell me what you know?”
“Yeah,” Gerard blurted, before taking a moment to collect himself. “I would. Where?”
“And interview room,” said the detective.
Gerard had a single question on his mind. “Is it private?”
“It is,” the detective told Gerard, who sighed, relieved.
“Can my friend come?” Gerard asked, gesturing to Frank.
The detective bit the inside of his cheek, clearly thinking. “Yes, he can,” he said finally.
Both Gerard and Frank followed the detective down a hallway and continued to follow when he turned unexpectedly into a room. The door was marked “Interview Room”. It wasn’t particularly fancy, just a plainly colored room with a wooden table and chairs. The detective sat on one side of the table while Gerard and Frank sat on the other.
“Mr. Way-“ the detective started, but Gerard cut him off in an instant.
“I know who did it,” Gerard breathed, and his chest tightened- he felt like he could pass out any second.
The detective raised his eyebrows and urged Gerard to continue.
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