Keep Me Out Of Trouble (FOB FanFic ft. Brendon Urie)

Chapter 19

Jane stood over my shoulder as I watched the interview she pulled up for me on her cell phone, the interview where Elisa put the blame on me and, not only did she do that, but claimed my best friend witnessed it and told her first-hand. I scoffed and handed Jane's phone back to her, "Pete wasn't even there when it happened! He came in after! It's not like he saw me stab him or anything."

"But he was there," She reminded me, pocketing the phone.

"But he came in after," I repeated myself, glancing over at her with worried eyes, "They're not going to arrest him, are they?"

She shook her head and took a step back from me, "I-I don't know, Patrick. With your case, the last time I heard something, they...they were ready to give up. You weren't to be found anywhere, there was no new information surfacing, they were ready to drop it. But now that Elisa's come forward, giving no reason not to believe her, I-I can't tell you whether or not they're going to arrest him."

"They can't arrest him, Jane," I asserted, standing up from the bar stool I was sitting on and turning to face her, "He's got Bronx and Saint to worry about. And he can't leave them, he's the only thing they've got left!"

"I-I get that, but...with Elisa's confession-"

"What if I come forward?" I inquired, my heart pounding against my chest, the thought of Pete taking the fall for me unimaginable, "What if I came forward and...and gave a reason for them not to believe her? Like the fact that she was behind Sarah Urie's murder!"

"Patrick, that case has already been closed!" She cried out of frustration, "You already served your time, it's not like telling them what you know is going to really change anything..."

"Then I'll come forward and just...get what I deserved," I ended with a sigh of defeat, "I don't really care anymore. I just...I don't want Pete going through what I had to go through. Especially if it's just for being accused of witnessing something he didn't even witness. I can't let that happen."

Jane crossed her arms, "So just like that? You're giving up?"

"What do I have to fight for, Jane? To live for?" I snapped at her, tears forming in my eyes and starting to blur my vision, "My wife's with the man who took away everything I cared most about. My kid doesn't even recognize me or know who I am. I can't do what I love because I'm constantly living in fear of someone finding me out. So why don't I beat them to it?" Having approached her as I spoke, the distance between us had shortened and our faces were inches apart, "Jane, I don't like living like this. I miss my home, I miss my friends, I miss you." I tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and sadly smirked, "At least if I come forward I'll be able to see you every day."

"You wouldn't be able to see me because you'd be dead," She corrected me, pushing me away from her, "Patrick, if you come forward, this will be your second murder...well, attempted murder...but that doesn't matter. There's no doubt in my mind that you'll be sentenced to death the second you step into that courtroom. The system doesn't take too well to murders, let alone murderers who kill again after being released."

I shrugged my shoulders and muttered, "Maybe being sentenced to death wouldn't be such a bad thing..."

By now, the alcohol in our systems had cycled its way out. Everything we were saying, we meant it.

"No, don't say that," She murmured, frowning.

"Jane, I don't think you know how sad I've been these past few years," I looked up and met her gaze, chuckling sadly, "Every day I wake up, I stare in the mirror and hate the man looking back at me. I mean, I never really liked him much in the first place, but I despise him. The things he's done, the shit he's thought about, I hate him. I hate him and I want him dead. My son doesn't recognize me? How about I don't even recognize me."

Tears spilled over my eyelids and began to stream down my cheeks, "And it's not because I wear colored contacts..." I brought my hands up to my eyes and took out the blue contacts, tossing them to the side, not caring where they landed - I didn't plan on retrieving them, "...or that I dyed my hair black..." I rubbed my eyes a little before tugging at the overgrown hair on my head, "...or even the fact that I escaped to this little town that no one knows about and changed my name, completely reinventing myself."

I dropped my hands to my sides and finished with, "It's the fact that the person inside, the person I am behind this mask I've made for myself, isn't the person I want to be. I want to be everything that I'm not. And I tried to do that by being Donnie, but it didn't do anything. I'm still me, I'm still on the run, and I think it's time that I stop. It's time I get caught."

She nodded her head no.

"What do you mean 'no'?" I asked angrily, "Jane, I don't want to this anymore!"

"And I don't want you dying!" She yelled, starting to cry herself. I hung my head. "Patrick, you're not meant for a place like that! Regardless if you actually did try to kill him. You were angry, you were furious, you just wanted to get your old life back."

"And look where that got me!" I screamed.

Jane swallowed hard and turned away from me, making her way around the couch we collapsed on together not too long ago, when she still thought I was Donnie the bartender, and sitting down. She put her head in her hands and took in a deep breath, "Patrick, I...I don't know what you want me to tell you. I don't know what you want me to do."

I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her front, resting my chin on the top of her head, "I want you to tell me that you'll be there for me, no matter what I decide to do. Can you do that, Jane? Can you tell me you're going to be there for me?"

She sniffled and tilted her head back, looking up at me with red and puffy eyes, "I just don't want to see you give up like this."

"I'm not giving up."

"Then what are you doing?"

I swiped my thumb across her cheek and answered her softly, "I'm doing what I should've done a long time ago."