Unholyverse

~Part 20~

The easy part was finding Frank's clothes and sneaking out of the hospital. The hard part was convincing Bob he had to stay put because the odds of them finding a cab driver who would let Bob hang his IV bag from the rearview like a really bizarre air freshener were pretty fucking low. The really hard part was not dying on the way there, because it turned out that feeling like shit when you were lying or sitting down translated into really seriously feeling like shit when you were speeding along in a car.

"Go on ahead," Ray said, helping Frank out of the cab when they arrived at the airport. "I'll pay the guy."

"Okay," said Frank forcing himself to stand up straight and put one foot in front of the other, even though it felt like his bones were grinding together like jagged pieces of glass.

He found Mikey hovering near the main entrance, peering anxiously into the parking lot. "Frank," he said when he saw him, and hurried over to give him a hug. "Are you okay? You look terrible."

"Thanks," Frank said dryly, but he knew it was true. He was incredibly pale, and his hair was sticking up from lying in bed for so long and he couldn't make it lie down flat to cover his scars, and while he did have clean clothes, he also hadn't showered or shaved for what felt like a month. Other people were giving him weird looks, but he found it hard to care about it. "Are you all right?"

Mikey twisted his fingers together. He kind of nodded, then blurted out, "They said he really can't work with us anymore. It's too dangerous. Brian and the Cardinal had a big fight about it, but I guess Brian lost."

"I know," said Frank. "He told me."

"Gerard's by the Starbucks inside," Mikey said, shifting awkwardly in place. "I'll wait here."

"Okay." Frank nodded. He squeezed Mikey's fingers, and went inside.

He found Gerard standing with his head tipped back, watching the flight information on a big screen. He was holding a coffee in one hand and his sunglasses in the other. There were marks on his face, his neck, his hands, that must have been from the exorcism. An ugly, poisonous-looking bruise on his throat. Frank knew what that was. He looked pale, and tired. His collar was back in place around his neck.

"Hi, Gerard," said Frank.

Gerard turned to face him and his eyes widened, startled. "Frank!" he said, and took a step forward before immediately reversing again. "What are you doing here? Should you be out of bed? Are you all right?"

Frank started to say he was okay, but Gerard interrupted him, "I waited until they said you were gonna be all right. I mean, I didn't just leave," he said earnestly, clutching his sunglasses to his chest.

"But you're leaving now."

Gerard's face fell, and he paused a long time before saying, "Frankie, I have to go back."

"I know," Frank said. "I'm not here to stop you."

Gerard looked troubled, but it was the truth. Frank still thought the Church was full of shit, but he'd seen what they were really up against now and he couldn't argue with that part of it, the part of the Church that was still about helping people and keeping them safe. He thought about what the Cardinal had said; about how it would be if they were all like Gerard. He swallowed painfully and said, "I guess they need you pretty bad, huh."

Gerard set his coffee down on a nearby low table, moving with odd, precise, jerky little movements. He folded his sunglasses up and hooked them in the pocket of his shirt, and then stepped closer to Frank. "What you did for me," he said in a low voice. "I don't know how to-"

"Will you do something for me?" Frank interrupted him. "When you get back to the Vatican?"

"Of course," Gerard said quickly. "Anything."

"Will you - will you tell Luke that I forgive him?" Gerard's eyes bugged out, and Frank explained. "The Cardinal said that he can't remember, so he can't be sorry, so he can't be granted absolution, which is bullshit if you ask me, but I thought, what the hell. If God can't forgive him, then at least I can."

"Frank," Gerard said. "Are you sure? He hurt you so badly."

"I know, but I'm just - I'm so tired of being angry all the time."

He had to stop talking for a minute, because the memory of that feeling, that hopeless, all-consuming anger, with no end to it, forever, was kind of a lot to bear. He gathered himself and went on, "And besides, it wasn't his fault, right? After - after what happened with you, with us...I understand that now. So I'd like him to know that I don't blame him for it, anymore."

Gerard was so tense, he looked like he would break into a thousand pieces if he moved. He said tightly, "I'll tell him."

Frank nodded. He took a deep breath and went on, "I didn't get it before. I thought that I could give you-" he cut himself off and blinked furiously, trying to keep his voice steady long enough to find the right words. "I didn't understand. About your Calling. About what it means."

Gerard's eyes flickered back to the information screen. "Frank," he said miserably.

"I know you have to be where you can do the most good," Frank pressed on recklessly. "I know that now."

Gerard twisted his hands together. He nodded, slowly, like it hurt. He moved suddenly, fumbling in his pocket and dragging out the rosary, which he held out to Frank. "Here," he said hoarsely. "This is yours."

Frank looked at it, and his fingers twitched with how bad he wanted it back in his hands. He clenched them into fists and then looked at Gerard's face. "No," he said, forcing the words out around the lump in his throat. "It's not."

He turned to leave and headed for the exits; every step felt like a mile, all he wanted to do was run back to Gerard and beg him not to leave, not to go away where Frank might never be able to see him again, but it would be no use and Frank didn't want to keep beating his head against that particular wall. Eventually even he had to admit defeat, or at least that's what he kept telling himself as he marched determinedly towards the doors.

Mikey's face fell as soon as he saw him. "He's still leaving?" he said incredulously. "But I thought-"

"It was never gonna happen," Mikey," Frank said, folding his arms and tucking his hands under his elbows because they wouldn't stop shaking. "You should probably get back in there, I think his flight's leaving soon."

"I shouldn't have called you," Mikey said miserably, visibly, physically torn - he kept rocking towards the doors and then back to Frank again. "You shouldn't even be out of bed. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"But it is," Mikey insisted. "Frank, you don't understand - I think I knew this was gonna happen."

Frank shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

Mikey hugged himself. "You and Gerard. I think I always knew this - that it would be like this, between you two, and that's why I never wanted you to meet, you know? That's why I never told you about him. And then you did meet, and I just, I just had this feeling, and if I hadn't stood between you then, if I'd just let it happen back at the beginning then it wouldn't be like this, Frankie, he wouldn't be leaving again and you wouldn't be - be so sad all the time, and it's my fault, Frank, it is."

"Mikey!" Frank grabbed Mikey and shook him, more than a little freaked out by that many words spilling out of Mikey's mouth at once. "Breathe, okay, just breathe."

Mikey shook his head, but he tried, his skinny shoulders rising and falling with the effort. "I just wish-"

"He's a priest, Mikey," said Frank, shaking Mikey again, gently this time. "A priest. It was never you that was standing in the way."

Mikey took a sharp breath. He shuffled so his feet touched Frank's. They stood there together as the crowds of people rushed by.

"I heard you, you know?" Frank told him quietly. "I heard your voice. When I was under."

"Yeah," Mikey whispered. "I knew you would."