Frank was still upset as Mikey walked through the doors of the house. It had been about an hour of Gerard and Frank talking about it. Upon hearing Mikey, they both looked towards the door. All was quiet until the demon spoke.
"What is my mom like?" he whispers, voice still broken from crying. Mikey looks to Gerard, who just holds up the newspaper piece. It doesn't take but a moment for him to figure it out.
"Yo-your mom is a sweet woman... She always has been, ever since we've met her." Mikey smiled shyly.
"And my dad?" Frank asked hopefully. Mikey looked over at Gerard, who cringed. He had left out that part.
Mikey looked at the floor and whispered solemnly "Well, he isn't around anymore.."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Frank mumbled.
"After what happened to you... He wen't-he wen;t to get vengeance.. But. He didn't make it out."
Both boys watched as Frank's head hit his hands.
"Hey.. Hey it will be all right." Mikey consoled, walking over. Frank shot up off his stool, wings bucking up. Mikey stepped back with the force.

"This is what I have learned to hate about society! 'Everything will be okay, the storm always ends, the silver lining to every cloud' I wish your eyelids were transparent so you cold not hide yourself and pretend bad things never happen, and you pretend that it just always magically gets better. Well maybe sometimes, it just DOESNT!" he roared, shoulders arching with fury. The Way brothers stepped back in unison as Frank fumed. His realization only hit when he saw fear in two of his only friends. At that point he sat back down and let his voice drop to a quieter tone.
"Maybe ignorance is truly always the best thing."

Gerard bowed his head.
"I really am sorry."
Frank nodded dismissively and curled his feet up on the stool by him.
"Do they know the people who did it?"
"yes"
"Are they still around?"
"..yes."
"Where?"
"Don't know."
"Get me all you can find out about it.. I don't care how." Frank murmured.



The next day, a murder of crows flew over the brothers as they crossed the park towards the library. The Jersey sky was grey even though it was only four PM. Frank was currently with Ray, given he hadn't spent much time with him recently.
"Why are we even doing this?" Mikey complained, his pace a few steps behind Gerard's as he tired of walking.
"Because. It is what Frank wants and- and I dunno. It kinda seems like someones 'last wish' or some shit." he muttered.
"Why does he want to know about it?" Mikey asked
"Wouldn't you want to know how you really died?"
"Not really."
"liar."

They rounded the corner into the library doors as a stout woman raised her head.
"Hello boys, how can I help you this evening?" an English accent and a grandmother's tone decorated her voice.
"Records." Gerard spoke, "Public records... on the Frank Iero case?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. The woman stopped smiling.
"Mister Iero. He was an interesting boy. Used to sit right there Sunday evenings and read all of our new comic books." she gestured to an old leather couch in the corner. "He always looked like trouble. But he wasn't a harm to anyone. Shame what happens to people." she sighed. "Anyways, you won't be able to find those here. You'll have to go a few doors down to the courthouse.. They should hand them over, but you have to sign papers that you will bring them back."

"Okay.. thank you for the help." Gerard waved, pulling Mikey out the door with him.
"God damn it. More walking." Mikey grumbled, walking carefully along the curb.

The Way brothers made their path back to Ray's house, the sky threatening them with even more rain. Tucked away in his coat Gerard held the thick manila folder containing everything known about his and his fathers murders. The process of obtaining them was a long long process of proof of ID and lists of everyone who would see the contents. They had to lie at that, they really couldn't say that Frank would be viewing them. A few blocks down the road, they arrived at Ray's, coming in to see the two on the couch playing guitar as usual. Frank was past the point of learning by now and they jammed together instead. Neither of them wrote or sang lyrics, but Ray did write down some melodies and riffs that they had played together. When the boys walked in. Frank immidiatly stood form the couch, putting the guitar on the seat behind him and running over. Gerard held out the folder and Frank eagerly took it, pulling out some of the contents. The pages still made no sense. Frustration waved over him like summer heat. He thought back to the day he had first arrived. When he thought really hard, some memories came back. Maybe that would work now. He backed up, almost sitting on the little acoustic in the process of sitting down. He let his wings fold at the bottom to fit to the couch, ignoring the discomfort of it. He stared harder and harder as the meaningless lines started to contort into words in his head.
Age sixteen... murder.. Saturday.... gang.. One at a time they made sense until reading became easy. When they returned home, Gerard and Mikey had to convince him to get sleep. They had work and school tomorrow.

In the morning, Frank insisted that he didn't need babysat, he didn't need to go to Ray's. Gerard tried to argue, but he locked himself in the basement. Eventually, the boys left him to his own ways. Frank set to work immidiatly.