A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Twenty Five - You Don't Know A Thing About My Sins

It was a few days later when Gerard received a call.

During those few days, Frank had gone back to Jamia's bookstore. He knew, deep down, that Gerard probably wouldn't like it if he found out (he was a jealous, possessive bastard; Frank knew), but he didn't really care. As much as Gerard wanted him to, Frank wasn't just going to comply to his every wish. He was a human being, after all, with a will of his own - and a very strong will at that.

He actually bought a few books this time, and said goodbye to her, telling her that he and his friend were just passing through and visiting some old acquaintances, so they probably wouldn't be staying long. He got a hug in return, a kiss on the cheek, and her number, tucked into his pocket on a piece of paper. He didn't actually have a cell phone (he'd just got out of prison for God's sake; Gerard had mysterious connections and was the exception), so he doubted the number would be used, but...he wanted to have it, just in case. He didn't want to forget the dark haired girl who smiled more than anyone else he'd ever met.

The nightmares had stopped for now, but Frank doubted they were gone for good. He still felt unease around certain things, and certain people, too.

And then Gerard received a call, and that was when everything went wrong.

xoxoxo

"Stump, you really think this is wise? I have to drive all the way to San Fran, break into a man's house, interrogate him, murder him, and you don't think the police are gonna find that suspicious at all?"

Frank paused as he walked back into the hotel room, books in his arms. Gerard was sitting on the bed, cell phone clutched in his white-knuckled hand. His expression was frustrated and more than a little angry. He hadn't noticed Frank yet, so he just lurked in the doorway silently. Frank couldn't hear Stump, the man on the other end, but he could guess what this was all about.

"No, Stump, you don't - I know! Jesus Christ. And I regret that, I know, I know, it won't happen again. It was a silly mistake, yes. And I'm grateful that he's giving me a second chance! But you don't understand, there's-" Gerard fell silent, his brows furrowing and his face paling considerably. "Oh. I see. He knows, then...I am sorry. But it was not related to - Stump, it was a personal problem I needed to solve! I didn't see the harm in letting him come. Yes, I know. I haven't told him anything." Gerard swallowed and rubbed his eyes. "Yes. Yes, fine. I'll go. Okay. Send him my regards." Gerard ended the call and glared at the bedspread, startled when Frank stepped out of the shadows and raised an eyebrow.

"Business?" Frank asked, keeping his tone light.

"Where'd you get those books?" Gerard said, redirecting the conversation.

"'I haven't told him anything'? I don't suppose that refers to anybody in particular, does it?" Frank was narrowing his eyes, setting the books down on the table and folding his arms.

"Frank," Gerard said tightly, "you were not supposed to hear that."

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Frank hissed, throwing up his hands and stalking closer. Gerard watched him unconcernedly. "What is so secret that you can't tell it to me? Can't even tell it to your own brother!"

"Frank, that's enough," Gerard replied, getting up from the bed and ignoring him.

"I want to come," Frank snapped. "I'm going to come with you!"

"No," Gerard said flatly. "Absolutely not."

"Yes."

Gerard had his back to Frank, looking for his jacket in the suitcase, but he whirled around then, all but tackling Frank and slamming him down against the bed, his tongue licking fiercely into the smaller's mouth. Frank made a choked sound, not expecting that at all...and then he felt the cold metal of handcuffs slide around his wrists, binding them to the headboard.

Gerard climbed off of him and ignored his protests. "No! Gerard, you can't just leave me here! Fucking...fuck you, seriously, don't - aaauuugh Gerard! Goddammit." The hotel room door closed and Frank was left handcuffed to the bed, full of rage. Frank wriggled a little, but the cuffs didn't give. "Shit," he hissed to himself, "I should've seen that coming." His fingers curled around the metal rims which dug uncomfortably into his skin, and then he felt a tiny latch. He blinked. No way...Gerard didn't make careless mistakes like this. Then he remembered the house alarm, allowing Frank to hear the phone call which had just happened...and he wasn't so sure.

He dug his nail into the latch, and it clicked, releasing his hand. His eyes widened. Gerard had grabbed the wrong cuffs. These were trick ones, not the real deal. Heart pounding, he wrestled his hand free and quickly got out of the other one, throwing them aside and scrambling off of the bed. The car, he needed to get to the car.

Frank ran down the stairs, not wanting to chance running into Gerard on the elevator. He skidded into the lobby, ignoring the confused looks from the receptionist and other guests, and went straight out the revolving doors. They were parked in the back lot, and he dashed through the one out front before skulking around the corner and peering at their car.

Gerard was unlocking it, starting to get in, and Frank had a moment of panic - and then he saw the car opposite. There was a man trying to get in it, punching the button on his car key with desperation, and Frank knew the moment Gerard decided to check it out. Probably not because he wanted to help with the man's car problem, more like he wanted an excuse to go near a hot guy. The man was pretty good looking, with wavy brown hair and dark, worried eyes. He was very tall, and Frank found it amusing how short Gerard looked beside the other. He hadn't lost any of his deadly charm, though, and when he asked in a silky voice, "Need any help?" the other paid attention to him instantly.

Frank took his chances, and darted across the parking lot, on the other side of the car so Gerard wouldn't see. Through the glass, he could barely make out the two talking, and hear their voices:

"Uh. I'm Jared. Jared Padalecki..."

"How funny, my name is Jared, too," said the man who was most definitely not named Jared. "Jared...Winchester." Frank barely bit back a laugh. The gun, really? But he needed to focus on the task at hand. As quietly as he could, Frank opened the car door, slipping in and closing it just as softly. He looked to the two men outside, who were still conversing. He ignored the way his throat filled with bile when Gerard touched Jared's shoulder in a way which was more than friendly, his face coy. Frank heard what Gerard said, and it made him even less pleased - "If I weren't going on a business trip, I'd ask if you wanted to get out of here."

Frank glared at them, his lip quivering. Fuck Gerard. Frank hadn't asked for much, but a little respect once in a while would've been great.

He was so wrapped up in this that he almost missed the fact that Gerard was walking back to the car. Frank hurled himself into the backseat, breathing hard and curling into an uncomfortable little ball under the jacket and what looked suspiciously like a body bag in the backseat.

What if Gerard found him? Would he put Frank in that body bag? Would he murder him to keep his secrets safe? Frank swallowed hard and made himself smaller, blood rushing through his veins with a renewed sense of urgency.

xoxoxo

Frank shouldn't have fallen asleep.

But he couldn't help it, the ride was long, the car was gently rocking, and Gerard started softly humming some song on the radio. So he did, and thus he was very rudely awakened when Gerard opened the trunk.

Frank felt a hand grabbing his collar and hauling him out, and did the instinctive thing - he struggled and kicked out, opening his eyes and freezing when he saw it was Gerard, his eyes cold and disapproving. Frank waited for verbal abuse, physical abuse, something - but Gerard just dropped him, sending him sprawling across the grassy ground with a painful thump.

"Gerard," Frank started, hoping to reason with him, but the other kicked his side in reply and he gasped, clutching at his ribs and scrambling to his feet. Gerard moved faster, though, and had him pinned up against the side of the car before he could open his mouth again. Frank tried to wriggle free, but Gerard pinned his wrists down and covered his smaller body with his own. His heart was beating surprisingly fast.

"How the fuck did you get out of the cuffs?" Gerard snapped, pressing down harder on Frank's wrists.

"Trick cuffs," Frank said, keeping a brave face despite the other's behavior. "It was careless of you." Gerard glared and Frank's wrists cracked painfully, his head turning to the side. "Go ahead," Frank muttered, "kill me if you want."

"Tempting," he snapped, "but then I'd just have another body on my hands."

"Then take me back to Los Angeles."

"We're in fucking San Francisco," Gerard hissed, "it's a five hour drive back."

"So," Frank said smugly, "guess I'll just have to stay."

"You don't understand what you're getting into," Gerard told him, but the pressure on his wrists lessened a little, a blessed respite.

"And whose fault is that?" Frank shot back. Gerard stepped away from him and Frank crossed his arms. "If you'd only tell me, then-"

"Then you'd die!" Gerard nearly shouted at him. "Do you have a deathwish? You don't want to know, and you shouldn't ever know." He paused. "That kind of knowledge ruins people's lives."

Frank was quiet. "Did it ruin yours?"

"Get in the car and stay there," Gerard snarled, ignoring his previous question.

"But-"

"Did you not hear me?! I said get in the fucking car and stay." Gerard shoved him into the backseat and slammed the door, stalking away down the house-lined street and leaving Frank with sore wrists and a thousand thoughts swirling around his mind.

xoxoxo

Gerard returned about fifteen minutes later with a blonde man who was entirely limp. At first glance, Frank thought he was dead, but then he saw the slight rise and fall of his chest, and when Gerard tossed him onto the seat next to Frank, he could feel the faint warmth of his breath.

"What did you do to him?" Frank asked with wide eyes, resisting the urge to poke the guy.

"Chloroform," Gerard said, climbing back into the driver's seat. "Should keep him out for at least half an hour." He started the car and started driving again, and the unconscious man's head lolled to the side.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere isolated," Gerard said shortly.

"Who is he?" Frank asked after a long silence.

"Gabriel Bartlett."

"Why-"

"Shut up."

Frank did.

xoxoxo

They arrived at the abandoned barn just as the man, Gabriel, started waking up. Gerard dragged him unceremoniously out of the car, and Frank began to follow, stopped when Gerard said, "Get the body bag out of the car, will you? We're going to need it."

Frank gulped and did so, the white plastic slipping between his fingers as he slammed the trunk and followed the captor and captive inside. They were outside San Francisco city limits, Frank was pretty sure - nothing around them except for a field, a dirt road, and the highway a fair distance away.

Nobody would hear the man scream.

He still seemed pretty out of it, and it was easy for Gerard to tie him to a rickety farm chair stacked up among the old farmhouse furniture, tractors, and some harvesting equipment which looked rusty and dangerous. But it didn't take long for him to get terrified and alert when he caught sight of Frank holding the body bag - it was hard to miss what that was.

"Help!" the man screamed, thrashing around in the chair. His cries went unnoticed by everyone except Gerard, who backhanded him across the face. Frank saw the way he reveled in the horror etched across the victim's features.

"Shut it," Gerard purred, drawing his knife from his belt. Frank paled. It was that knife. "Nobody can hear you, anyway."

"What do you want from me?" he cried, struggling a little more, but Gerard was apparently very good at tying knots, since he didn't get anywhere. "I haven't done anything, I swear!" Frank wasn't convinced - the fear in his eyes told an entirely different story.

"You haven't, have you?" Gerard said, mouth curling up in a smirk. "So this means nothing to you?" He reached under the collar of his shirt and brought out the necklace with the gold and ruby cross on it, and Gabriel screamed, trying to get away.

"No!" he pleaded, trying to twist away. Frank could've sworn there were tears in his eyes. "An accident! It was all an accident! I didn't mean to see him do it, I swear!"

"That doesn't matter," Gerard said, voice hard, "what matters is that you did see it. And he told you something. Would you like me to tell you what?"

"No," gasped Gabriel, eyes wide and desperate, "no, please!"

"He said, 'You're one of us now.'" Gerard paused and hissed, "And you didn't listen. You ran. You thought you got away."

Gabriel's Adam's apple bobbed frantically and he shook his head. "I don't understand! I was confused, and that man - he was a monster! He lit that girl on fire!" Gerard hit him and he cried out, a long, echoing note in the heavy silence.

"You fled," Gerard said, flat and with no room for protest. "You got as far away as you could, but it wasn't far enough. It will never be far enough - they will always find you." Gerard's face was twisted in raw, pure fury. "You didn't deserve to avoid them as long as you did. You don't deserve for them not to corrupt you."

The man shook and quivered, shaking his head. "Please," he gasped, "I'm just a normal guy. I won't tell anybody! Please let me go, please!"

Frank knew the man didn't have a chance. He saw the moment Gerard's eyes sharpened, the predatory, angry glint in them, and the twitch of his wrist before the knife came down, slashing the man's throat open. His arteries frantically pumped blood, but it all came spilling out, staining his shirt red. Gerard just stood there, holding the knife, his brows drawn together and eyes half-lidded. He reminded Frank of a wolf who'd just made a kill, and yet when Gerard stepped away from the dead man and towards Frank, there was a defeated quality about him.

"Help me get him into the body bag," Gerard said quietly. It wasn't a request, and so Frank crossed the room and untied Gabriel from the chair. He wrinkled his nose at the sharp smell of blood - it had been four years since he'd seen so much of it, and it awakened memories in him which he'd tried to keep locked away. They put Gabriel into the once-white bag, and Gerard dragged him towards the loft, getting him up the ladder surprisingly easily and tossing his corpse among the hay bales.

Frank felt a little sick. "What did that man do?"

Gerard didn't answer, and started towards the barn doors, and Frank was done, okay. He wanted answers, and he was getting them.

Neither of them were really sure how he managed it, but in seconds Frank had Gerard up against the wall, narrowing his eyes and him and pushing close so he wouldn't get away. Gerard frowned, but Frank cut him off.

"What did he do?!"

Gerard composed himself. "He witnessed an attack, and he tried to get out of joining."

"Joining what, exactly?"

"Frank, I can't-"

"Yes, you fucking can!" Frank growled, eyes blazing. "And you will! Why did your necklace terrify him so much? What did he see? And why the hell did you kill him?"

Gerard looked at him warily. "It's not a necklace. It's a pendant."

"Same fucking difference!"

"I don't like your tone, Frank."

"You know what?" Frank snapped. "Save that for the bedroom, if you're going to use it at all. I deserve to know! You and your creepy little organization saved me from prison and death, and you never thought I'd get involved?"

"Frank-"

"Listen, I know you want answers too."

Gerard paused and tilted his head.

"You want to know how I killed those men, what I did to them. Why I had sex with all my cell mates. And I'll tell you, but only if you tell me."

Gerard sighed. "You don't want to know, and it would just make things even more complicated-"

"I castrated them."

Gerard froze. "What?" he asked carefully.

"All the guys I killed?" Frank snorted. "I cut their dicks off, you heard me." Gerard was silent. "See, some people slit throats, other people stab hearts, but I castrated them, because they were all dicks anyway. They were all my past boyfriends," Frank mused. "Eight in total. They thought they could mess with me, the sweet, young boy they'd picked up at a bar - they double-crossed me, they cheated on me, they abused me, raped me, taunted and ridiculed me - so I killed them. I watched them bleed to death and really know what they'd done to me, see it sink in. Maybe at one point I went a little too far; I ended up in prison. My first cell mate raped me. He was killed two days later when his death sentence was carried out, and I was satisfied from that. So I kept doing it. I was careful - I found ways to check their records, make sure they were clean - and then I offered if the answer was yes, and they all agreed oh-so-eagerly. And I did it happily, knowing that they would all die in the end."

Gerard was staring at him, still saying nothing, so Frank continued. "And then there was you. You know, you pissed me off right from the beginning. You said no. You refused me the one pleasure I had left - watching all the men who had sex with me die. And then, when you finally complied, you were violent, and you reminded me of my second to last boyfriend - Billie Joe Armstrong. That's what kept me going, I think - seeing you in my mind, covered in blood, pitiful, vulnerable, less than a man."

That was when Gerard reacted, switching their positions with lightning speed, and Frank felt the cold blade of the knife against his throat, saw the fire in Gerard's eyes. "You think this is a fucking game? You think I'm just another 'boyfriend' who you can kill when I become enough of a bastard? You don't know a thing about me, about my sins."

"Enlighten me," Frank encouraged, and the flat of the blade was slammed against his windpipe.

"I am part of the Templar," Gerard said, and it looked as though it physically hurt him to say it. "The Knights Templar."

"Some knight," Frank choked out.

"Ah, yes, it's a rather ironic term. An old name from the old days. The Knights Templar were the protectors of Europe, as the stories go - until they were destroyed by three families. And these families are who we are after still...their descendants. It's all about revenge, Frank," Gerard said. "Revenge and power. Those who witness our attacks are automatically part of us, or dead - it's all a secret that must never be shared. And if they try to run...they're killed with no choice in the matter."

"Then why are you telling me?" Frank asked, breath catching.

"To teach you a lesson," Gerard told him. "To teach you that I am not another one of your victims. Even if you somehow manage to make me 'less than a man,' to kill me, then they'll know, and you will never be safe. And trust me when I say they will find you. I've learned from experience."

And with that, he released Frank, leaving the other stunned and wondering what else had happened in Gerard's story - because Frank certainly hadn't told him everything....far from it.