Letters from the Dead

Bob turned his navy blue Subaru into the driveway. He shifted his gear into neutral and engaged his parking brake. It was 3am in the morning, and Bob was back at Gerard’s place. Ray had called earlier and told him that he had left Frank asleep on his bed, but Bob was still worried about Frank and wanted to sneak back into the house to check up on him, just to make sure he was okay.

Bob settled back into the driver’s seat, sighing heavily and feeling maudlin. It had been six weeks since Gerard’s death. Six weeks in which he had struggled with his emotions.

At first he was furious with Gerard, infuriated at him for taking the coward’s way out of life and for not telling Ray or himself about what he was going through. Bob was firmly convinced that they would have come to a solution for Gerard… or at least be able to dissuade him from this extreme course of action. There was a small voice at the back of his mind that told Bob that they probably wouldn’t have been able to give Gerard any solution, and the two agents would have most likely been forced to ask Gerard to surrender and to admit to his crimes. Things would have been a lot worse for Gerard, especially for Gerard’s ego and pride… but Bob firmly squashed the thought at the back of his mind.

Then he vacillated between bouts of depression and acceptance. He missed Gerard a lot. He missed the fucking bastard’s ability to make him laugh, his sarcastic wit and beautiful smile. But Gerard was dead. And he would never be able to see Gerard again.

He got fucking pissed at the local bar a few times and it was a wonder he hadn’t been robbed of all his money or something much worse like getting his assigned firearm stolen. The last time he got smashed, Ray was there to pick up after him. The exhausted, exasperated yet understanding look on Ray’s face as he brought Bob home to care for him, painstakingly cleaning him up after his vomit-fest with no complains despite the fact that Ray had to, at the same time, care for an indisposed Frank as well made Bob feel mortified as hell. When he saw the fatigue on Ray’s countenance the next morning, he decided to swear off the bottle for a while, at least until he could get a grip on his emotions.

And of course everyday he thought about Gerard’s last wish. And every time he thought of it, fresh waves of resentment, reluctance, acceptance and determination came with it. Gerard wanted Bob to look after Frank, and he would do it, not only because Bob wanted to respect Gerard’s last wishes, but also because Frank had been a good friend to Bob over the past few years and he wasn’t about to lose Frank to this as well.

Bob exited the car quietly and looked up at the windows of the house. It was dark and Frank should be asleep by now. Hopefully, Bob could get into the house and check on him, then slip out again without Frank noticing.

Bob pressed his index finger on the biometric screen. The screen lit up as the security system responded, prompting him for the numerical password. His fingers danced over the keypad and the sensor over the door beeped softly. The door swung open silently and Bob slipped into the house. He propped his foot against the closing door, preventing it from slamming shut as it usually did. He caught the door and reached out to turn the doorknob before gently pushing it shut with a little click.

“You know, just because he gave you access to the house doesn’t mean that I can’t take it away.”

Well. So much for stealth.

Bob stopped in his tracks, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. He looked up the stairs leading to the top level of the house and caught the slim silhouette of Frank’s body sitting on the steps of the stairs.

How stupid of you, Bob. If this was a real case you would have gotten yourself killed.

He scolded himself mentally.

In the pallid moonlight shining through one of the windows of the house, Frank was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. His feet were stretched out diagonally across the steps. His left leg was propped up slightly, supporting his left hand which was holding what appeared to be a can of beer, and a lit cigarette in the other hand which was resting loosely against his right thigh. There was a white ashtray on the step next to Frank.

“I know,” Bob replied. He shuffled his feet and leaned heavily against the closed door, sighing as he waited for the outburst that he was expecting to come. Bob winced at the thought of Frank hurling the innocuous-looking ashtray at him.

There was silence as Frank opened his eyes and set down the can of beer next to the ashtray. He looked up and focused his attention on Bob, his hazel eyes appearing obsidian in the faint glow of light.

“And just because I understand that the two of you did it for my sake doesn’t mean that I forgive you guys for choosing to hide it from me.” Frank said irritably, his eyes smoldering with anger.

“I know,” Bob said contritely. He spread his hands outwards, shrugging in a little what-were-we-supposed-to-do-instead? gesture.

“I would have thought our friendship was enough for a little honesty between all of us. This didn’t help at all. It made me feel doubly betrayed, Bob. I mean, with Gerard… it was already devastating enough. I didn’t need the additional burden of my friends hiding the truth from me.”

“I know.”

Frank laughed bitterly.

“Really, Bob, is that all you can say?”

“I’m sorry, Frank. We truly wanted the best for you. You needed time.” Came the helpless reply.

“Apology not accepted.” Frank said humorlessly.

“I’m really…” Bob stopped in mid-sentence as he reacted with lightning quick reflexes, catching the can of beer that Frank had thrown at him.

“Shut the fuck up and sit down.” Frank replied harshly, re-arranging his limbs and stretching them out in front of him instead.

Bob bit back a relieved sigh.

Not quite forgiven, but I’ll take what I can get.

A few quick strides up the steps and he sat down next to Frank, the white ashtray between them. He examined the unopened can of beer in his hands which felt lukewarm in his grip. He shot Frank a quizzical expression.

Frank caught the puzzled look in Bob’s expression and smiled grimly.

“I haven’t drank since Gerard managed to kick his alcohol addiction. I bought a pack of beer wanting to drink myself into a drunken stupor… but I couldn’t bring myself to open this can.” Frank shook his head. “Everytime I try to, I imagine the look on Gerard’s face… and I just can’t do it.”

He puffed on his cigarette, removing the thin stick from between his lips as he blew out the fumes.

“I’ve been holding it for a while, so it’s probably warmed up and nasty now. It most likely tastes like shit now. You might want to get a chilled one from the fridge.” Frank added as an afterthought.

Bob nodded but made no move to replace the can of beer. Instead, he set the can down next to the ashtray. There was a period of time when Gerard was so obsessed with alcohol that he drank all the time. It nearly cost him his job at the Bureau and Frank. Frank had helped him though that tough period, even going to the extent of not drinking as well.

Bob reached into his pocket, fumbling for his own pack of cigarettes and his lighter. He lit one stick up, slipping it in between his lips as he stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning backwards casually with his elbows on the step above the one he was sitting on and stared up at the ceiling of the house.

They sat in silence for a while. Bob glanced occasionally at Frank, who seemed content for the moment to just sit in the darkness in his company.

“I don’t know what to do, Bob,” Frank said, breaking the silence suddenly as he rubbed his face with the back of his hand tiredly.

“Tell me what you are feeling now.” Bob said simply.

“I should have thought that was obvious,” Frank shot Bob a black look, feeling his patience wear thinner by the moment. “Where were you the past few weeks?”

“Humor me,” Bob tilted his head in a placating manner, flicking the ashes from his cigarette into the white ash-tray.

“Fine.” Frank threw his arms up in exasperation. Bob looked patiently at Frank.

“I feel like…. I feel like I’m boiling over with all these emotions inside me. I miss Gerard so much. I want him by my side. It feels like I can’t breathe every time I think about him.”

Frank stared down at the end of his cigarette.

“It feels like the world’s about to stop spinning on its axis at any moment, but it’s still going to continue spinning anyway cause the world doesn’t give a fuck about me. And apparently Gerard doesn’t give a fuck about me either.” Frank stopped in mid-tirade.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he rubbed angrily at the traitor-tears that were escaping from him. Bob patted him clumsily on the back as Frank panted slightly.

“Gerard doesn’t give a fuck about me,” Frank continued, breathing in heavily. “Cos he’s dead now. Even when he was alive, he chose to die and that shows how much he cares about me, doesn’t it? But I love him. Oh God, Bob, I love him so much.”

Frank stubbed out the cigarette heatedly into the ash-tray.

“And then I think about Lizzie.” Frank placed a palm over his chest and turned towards Bob. “And it feels like my heart’s being ripped out. I feel… I just can’t believe that Gerard would do such a thing. I want to forgive Gerard… but at the same time, I can’t, because it’s Lizzie. My beautiful, loving sister.”

“How can I ever forgive him for doing such a thing to her? And then I feel miserable for loving him – the… mon... monster who raped her.” Frank stuttered over the word, his face turning white with the strain.

“And it hurts so much calling him that.” Frank said softly. “Trying to reconcile the word ‘monster’ with Gerard. I can’t. I really can’t. I love him so much, and it hurts me to think of him like that. He’s been there for me. He’s always been my pillar, my protector through all those bad times.”

“I miss her. I miss him. I feel so betrayed, so confused, so guilty… and helpless. I don’t know what I should do, Bob.”

Bob stared back at Frank’s tear-rimmed eyes and said very kindly, “It’s very simple, Frank. You just have to forgive him.”

There was a moment of dumb-folded silence as Frank took in his words.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Frank responded sharply.

“Why is it easy for me to say?” Bob’s temper flared. “Is it because you THINK that I have no experience with betrayal from a loved one, or is it because you THINK that I have no experience with forgiveness?”

Frank looked somewhat abashed as Bob groaned in annoyance.

“Granted, I said it was simple. Simple as in, no complications, no frills, no nothing. Just one act. Forgiving someone is simple, but I never said it was going to be easy!” Bob continued.

Frank cocked his head to the side, taking in Bob’s words. After a while, he let out an exhausted sigh.

“Explain,” he said.

Bob shook his head a little at Frank’s flat tone as he held his cigarette delicately between his fingers.

“Do you remember the time when Gerard was shot in his right shoulder?”

Frank tapped the bottom of his chin thoughtfully.

“How could I forget? It scared the living shit out of me when I got the call from Ray.” Frank’s eyes clouded over with the memories as he leaned heavily on the wall again. “Gerard told me that he got shot while trying to help you… when I asked him why, he said that it simply wasn’t his prerogative to tell me anything more. He didn’t feel that it was his place to say anything about what happened, and that if I really wanted to know, I would have to ask you. That was all he said to me.”

“And at that time, apart from the fact that we weren’t close…” Frank nodded absent-mindedly at Bob, “Gerard never hid anything from me that wasn’t worth hiding. It was always for my own good, or for someone else’s.”

Frank made a little unhappy face as he thought about it. “And that secret he kept for twenty years was definitely worth hiding,” Frank continued a little softly.

Bob nodded, a little surprised. He hadn’t explicitly said to Gerard that he didn’t want anyone else to know, or that he wanted a little privacy about what had happened, much less keep it from Frank. In fact, considering that Frank was Gerard’s boyfriend, it was really quite startling that Gerard had made his own decision to respect Bob’s privacy instead.

“Good man,” he said a little wistfully. He took a little puff of his cigarette as he gathered his thoughts. “It’s actually a really long story.”

Frank nodded, looking interestedly at Bob.

“Well,” Bob began. “My mother died ten years ago, when I was twenty-two. The day she died, I was away at college, and my father was away on a business trip.”

Bob paused.

“My mother’s death almost destroyed me. She had been found kneeling, bound and gagged, and had been shot execution style in the back of her head. I wasn’t in the force then, but the files I dug up on her later … I’ll never forget the photos.” He closed his eyes as the images welled up again in his mind, still fresh in his memory and untouched by time. His mother in her favourite red dress, lying slumped on the floor, her feet still in a kneeling position on the ground. The back of her head blown out by the gunshot, the gaping wide hole in her cracked skull and blood everywhere…

“The police said that it was a burglary. The house had been ransacked, and my mom, they said, had been collateral damage. She had probably been unlucky.” Bob sneered slightly at the last word. “But to me… It felt personal. The fact that she had been forced into a kneel, and that she had been shot at close range and all… it felt pre-mediated. But the stupid fuckers never found anything.”

“My father was devastated…or at least I thought he was. I was never close to my father when I was older. I adored and loved the man when I was younger. He was the perfect father, loving and a good role model, but when he started his own investment business, we drifted apart. He was never home. My mother became my pillar of strength and during my adolescent years, she was almost like my only parent. It didn’t help that during the period of time when my mother had died, my father’s business was going downhill and he was facing possible bankruptcy. The police suspected him initially because she had named him as the beneficiary of her life insurance policy, but because he had been away in Germany, and because the house had been plundered and many valuables had been stolen, they quickly ruled him out as a suspect.”

“And so, because they had nothing concrete, my mother’s case became one of the many cold-cases in the database.” Bob said bitterly. Frank looked empathetically at Bob as Bob paused to think.

“My father ultimately received the insurance payout and saved his business. It managed to stay afloat for a while, but eventually still failed in the end two years later.”

“I never suspected my father.” Not once, Bob thought bitterly to himself.

“He always looked so devastated whenever I mentioned my mother. Even if he hadn’t been there for the later part of my childhood, I still loved him and worshipped him. I still treated him with the respect that I thought he deserved. ”

“Everything changed the day I overhead his conversation with Elliot Lancer.”

Three years ago…

Bob slipped out of his car, fumbling with the groceries he was holding as he pushed open the glass doors. He waved merrily at Michael, the burly security guard of the apartment block, who was sitting at the desk in the lobby. He jabbed the button of the elevator for the eleventh floor and tapped his feet impatiently as the slow-as-fuck elevator crawled its way up the block. There was a soft ding as the doors slid open and Bob walked down the passageway towards his father’s apartment. He was about to turn the corner towards the front door of his father’s unit when he heard hushed whispers drifting towards him.

Up till today, Bob couldn’t be sure what had made him stop to listen to the conversation.

“You promised me money for my wife’s treatment, Alfred!”

“And I did! I gave you the money years ago,” Came a hiss. Bob tilted his head in recognition. That voice belonged to his father, Alfred Bryar. “I have no more.”

“Please,” The other voice broke as it pleaded. “My wife is dying. We need the money for her treatment.”

“I’m sorry, but I really have no more money to give you. My business has failed many years ago.” Alfred’s tone was cold and flat.

“I did the dirty work for you…. I killed her for you.” The other voice suddenly grew low and threatening. “Your son is an FBI agent, isn’t he? What would he say if I told him all about what you hired me to do?”

Bob grew still at the implication of those words.

Murder?

“Are you threatening me, Lancer?” His father said silkily. “Who are you? A criminal who has been released from jail twice. A repeat offender - a robber. Who do you think he will trust? His beloved father, or a petty criminal?”

There was a soft response that Bob could not make out. Alfred snorted.

“Think twice, Lancer. If I go to jail, so will you. And who’s going to look after your indisposed wife then?” Bob could almost hear the sneer in his father’s voice. “Go home, Lancer, and spend the rest of her dying days with her.” The door slammed shut.

The groceries lay forgotten on the ground the moment Lancer turned around the corner and ran smack into Bob.

Present day…

“I hauled Lancer in for questioning.” Bob continued after he had recounted the conversation between his dad and Lancer. Frank looked slightly horrified, and Bob knew that Frank had managed to piece together the little information that Bob had given him. “The cruelty in my father’s voice… I had never heard it before and never had it directed towards me before. And the fact that it existed… it chilled me to my bones. I always thought my father was kind and loving. Had it all been an act? I was trembling with fear, utterly frightened about the horrifying truth that I knew that I was about to discover as I brought Lancer to the Bureau.”

“Gerard was the first to see me arrive at the Bureau with Lancer in haul... He took one look at the expression on my face and knew that something was wrong. He stopped me before I entered the interrogation room. Gerard forced everything out of me… and maybe it was my vulnerability at that moment, but I told him about my terrible suspicions. Gerard was the one who interviewed Lancer together with me.”

“Lancer told us everything. No matter how intensely I grilled him for details, no matter how I poked and prodded at his account of the events that had occurred, everything fit. He told us how my father had wanted money from my mother to save his company, but my mother had refused to give him any. The money she had were her savings and most of it was my college fund for the years that I still had ahead of me. My father was furious, but she wouldn’t change her mind. She had never liked his investment business as it had taken him away from the family. When the monetary situation in the company grew desperate, my father coveted her insurance money. He hired Lancer, telling him that he would pay for the chemotherapy that Lancer’s wife required with part of the insurance money. He wanted Lancer to murder my mother while he was away on business so that he would have an alibi.”

Bob sucked in a breath and his eyes dimmed with tears.

“My father hated my mother for ‘abandoning him to his doom’, Lancer said. Lancer told me how my father had planned my mother’s death. He wanted Lancer to tie my mother up, and force her to her knees to humiliate her…. Lancer forced her to kneel right in front of the photograph in the living room. MY photograph. My father told Lancer to tell my mother, “Look where your beloved son has gotten you so far.” And the last words my mother heard were ‘Alfred sends you his regards’.”

Bob trembled in the memory.

“I snapped. My father… was he truly such a vicious man? I could not believe it. I shouted at Lancer, hauling him upwards by the collar and shaking him violently. ‘Why should I believe you?’ I said to him. And Lancer laughed in my face. The fucking murderer laughed in my face. ‘The problem is that you already do, Bryar, otherwise you would never have brought me in.’ I’ll never forget what he said.” Bob shook his head sadly. Frank leaned closer towards Bob, putting his hand comfortingly across Bob’s shoulders and rubbing his back gently. Bob drew in another shaky breath as he continued.

“I fled the room. I was feeling so angry and betrayed… I went straight to my father.” He closed his eyes in shame. “I was so foolish.”

“I confronted him. I wanted him to tell me that it was all a lie. But he didn’t deny it. I was distressed. How could he do this to a woman who had loved him without reservations, to a woman who had given him a son and a family? How could he have robbed me of my mother? I wanted him to surrender. I was begging him to do it.” Bob stopped suddenly.

“He drew a gun on me,” Bob shuddered as he recalled what happened next. Frank let out a little gasp of shock. “I was stunned. Staring down the barrel of the gun, I suddenly couldn’t recognize the man who I had called my father for twenty-nine years. My reality was shattered. I was devastated. My heart broke, and I froze.”

“My father pulled the trigger,” Bob sighed. “And suddenly Gerard was there. Later on, I realized that in the midst of my fury and desperation, I had left the door to his apartment open. Gerard came in just in time, accessed the situation and protected me. He took the bullet for me. And he also shot my father, killing him on the spot, while I stood there, dazed and heart-broken.”

Frank was rubbing Bob’s back contemplatively.

“I never blamed Gerard for what he had to do. Even though he killed my father… he was killing someone that I didn’t recognize anymore. Somebody who had changed so completely that I didn’t even know who he was anymore.” Bob said softly.

He smiled weakly at Frank. “And slowly, I learnt to forgive my father as well. Do you still think that I have no right to give you advice?” Bob asked Frank seriously. “I think we’ve both had our fair share of betrayal from a loved one, yes?”

Frank nodded, ashamed.

“I’m sorry Bob, I really shouldn’t have assumed something like that.”

Bob waved a hand in mid-air nonchalantly, and took a quick puff of his cigarette. He shrugged off the apology. “It’s okay. Can I give you some advice?”

Frank dipped his head in acquiescence.

Bob blew the smoke out of his mouth as he pondered over what he wanted to say.

“It’s funny how bad things can change people. It’s what you choose to do with these mistakes that determine the kind of person you are.” Bob said. “Mistakes can mould you into a different person. Look at what my Dad did… and look at what Gerard did. My Dad… he persisted on, making more mistakes to cover up with his prior wrongdoings. He tried to kill me.” Bob shook his head sadly.

“Yes, Gerard did something wrong and didn’t turn himself in. But he took his mistakes, kept it close to his heart and changed. His mistakes became part of him… they were a constant reminder to him. He used it for good, Frank. He became an FBI agent. And he was damn good at it. He saved lives. He fought crime. His mistakes humbled him, and he used it to become the man you love.”

“I know it’s not easy to forgive Gerard right now. I know you feel guilty, angry, frustrated, betrayed, miserable… And it feels as though you’ll never be able to forgive him when you think of Lizzie. But is it worth it to put yourself in so much pain and hate? Is it really worth it? Do you really want to hate Gerard?”

Frank shook his head slowly.

“I don’t want to. I still love him. But all I can do now is to hate him. For leaving me behind. For hiding the truth from me. For betraying me.” Frank whispered quietly, the hurt reflected in his eyes. Frank shakily reached for his own packet of cigarettes as he lit up again. “It’s all I can think about now.”

Bob looked at Frank as he spoke again. “It was the same for me, Frank. Whenever I thought of my mother, I felt as though I would never be able to move on from the hate I had for my father. But I’m not asking you to forgive Gerard right away. Forgiveness is not easy. Hell, I know how hard it is. I had to take a long time before I could forgive my father.”

Bob regarded Frank thoughtfully.

“My father killed my mother… then tried to kill me. I haven’t forgotten that. I haven’t forgotten how he pulled the trigger… Haven’t forgotten the sound of the gunshot. But whenever I think of my father, I don’t remember him as my mother’s murderer. I don’t remember him as the man who tried to kill me. I remember him as the man who held my hand as I took my first steps. I remember him as the man who taught me how to ride a bike, the man who cleaned up my wounds when I fell off my bike and kissed it all right. I remember him as the man who tucked me into bed at night, telling me fairy tales and stories of super heroes and crime fighters. I now mourn the loss of my loving father I had when I was younger, and of the father I never had when I was older.”

“I haven’t forgotten what my father did, but I forgive him for what he chose not to do – and for what he chose to do. It’s that simple, Frank.” Frank looked deep in thought as Bob patted him on the back.

“Don’t think about Gerard as the man who raped your sister, Frank,” Bob said gently. “Think of Gerard as the man who loved you with all his heart and soul. Think of him as the man who supported you through all the ups and downs, and did everything for you.” Bob said a little sadly.

“You have to learn to remember the good, Frank. You don’t have to forget the bad, but you can accept it as part of him. Part of what made him Gerard. Part of what made him the man you love.”

“What happened with Lizzie changed him, Frank. He lived with the guilt for twenty years. Yes, Gerard committed a crime, he did something wrong, he left you behind, lied to you, betrayed you…. But he also protected you, guided you and loved you for so many years. Will you hate him for the years to come, Frank? Or will you forgive him and love him for the man he had become for you?” Bob looked quizzically at Frank, raising an eyebrow.

“I want to forgive him.” Frank said finally.

Bob looked at Frank as Frank blew out the smoke from his mouth, looking a little at peace after his declaration. His shoulders, which had been tense throughout the conversation, were now relaxed.

“I will try,” Frank said after a long pause. “Thank you, Bob.”

“We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are.*” Bob twirled the cigarette in his fingers before stubbing it out.

Frank grinned suddenly.

“Did you seriously just quote “Harry Potter” at me? Why, I never pegged you to be a closet fan, Bob Bryar, you sly one.”

Bob chortled, unabashed.

“And you know this how?” Bob laughed at the sheepish expression on Frank’s face. “Oh I forgot, I’m talking to the man who has an altar to JK Rowling.”

“It’s not an altar, it’s just a shelf of her books,” Frank retorted. “And the movies,” he added as an afterthought. “Alan Rickman is fucking sexy.”

“A shelf which you refuse to let anyone else touch,” Bob shot back. “Anyone who has seen the reverent way you treat those books would have thought otherwise. And you even have both the U.K and the U.S versions of the book, and the rest of the spin-offs to the series!” Bob blanched as he remembered Frank’s last statement. “Rickman???! Really???”

“What can I say, the woman’s a bloody genius,” Frank noted unrepentantly. “Rickman’s got a voice like sex. And he was awesome as Severus Snape.”

Bob frowned and shrugged his shoulders, apparently not seeing the appeal. As Frank launched animatedly into one of his favourite topics in the world, his hands moving in quick little gestures, his countenance excited and radiant, Bob let a small smile slip onto his face.

It was a small little step forward in Frank’s recovery.

Notes

My Chemical Romance - Famous Last Words

I am not afraid to keep on living
I am not afraid to walk this world alone
Honey if you stay, I'll be forgiven
Nothing you can say can stop me going home