#lord i wish id edited this before posting it instead of 2am cst on the 7th.

[whodunnitmafianostalgia]

Endings (part 2)

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The elevator began to slow, nearing its stop. Nick kept his eyes on the door. Trying really, really hard not to think about anything at all.

“…But I am sorry.” Alec. Almost whispered.

No. Don’t say that, thought Nick, trying not to show any reaction to that outwardly at all. He wasn’t ready to deal with that. He couldn’t even think about this right now. It was way too much. Just don’t look at him. We’ll get to the top, and we’ll be out, and the cops will come and it’ll be somebody else’s problem, and…And what? He could pretend to just forget? That was never gonna happen.

I don’t understand. It wasn’t like no one had ever stabbed him in the back before. Life had been rough on and off for Nick Falcone, but. Never like this. Never someone he had been so close to, so completely. He hadn’t realized that confusion could be one of the most painful things to feel, but. God, he, he would have rather been angry, or sad, or…or anything, he thought, and he was—he was both of those things and more, but above all, he was just so utterly lost. I just don’t understand.

How can it be you? he thought, not looking back. How could it possibly be Alec? He had…they had fought together. Traded clues and watched each other’s backs. He had woken up with a concussion and a relieved Alec looking down at him after that fight in the basement, propped up in his lap and with his stupid green coat on to keep him from freezing in the snow. Nick had heard him calling for help and saved him from drowning in the library, and…it was so genuine. The memory he had in his head of Alec, drenched and coughing, shaking his shoulder to wake him up. He’d said something about being so relieved he was okay, and Nick had believed that without question. It had been so real. Everything. They had…they had hung out together a lot, between cases. Just to try to make being locked up here bearable. Talked about life, and places, and movies, and friends, and nothing, like friends. They had…they had been friends. And Grigor and Rentaro…Dylan and Kim? It… How? I can’t…I can’t understand.

The elevator door slid open, and Nick was brought back to the present by the sound of what he’d thought at first was Kim’s voice, but couldn’t be, because she was right beside him, and it was shrieking, “Kim!” with joy, and then Kim was tearing past him and flinging herself at her twin sister, and they collapsed backwards onto the floor of a little office, laughing and crying and talking over eachother so fast he could barely make a word out.

“Rachel?” said Dylan, who had been close to her, staring in shock at the sight and going pale.

“I-I’m so sorry,” said Henry, turning to him, “I—So much has happened in the last half hour. She’s been alive the whole time, and I should have remembered you all didn’t know. Kim and Rachel and I faked her death together, to try to find a way out.”

“You didn’t die,” said Nick with wonder, staring at the hugging sisters on the ground, trying to mentally adjust to that. A lot of people hadn’t died. Because their killer had had second thoughts. And for a second that made him feel a lot better, and then he was thinking about the four people who had died, and the better feeling went away. Against his better judgement, he glanced at Alec for a moment. He wasn’t even really sure why.

Alec was watching Kim and Rachel, and almost smiling. Looking sad like he had ever since he’d told them his name wasn’t Alec Fell, but in just that one moment, better too. Relieved, and happy, for someone else.

That felt so familiar. But. But Nick didn’t know if that was real, or if he was acting, the way he had been for weeks. The way he was apparently so proficient at that Nick hadn’t been able to sense a single thing off at all. Were you just pretending to be a drunk, too? He wondered, looking back into the office, not willing to look at him long enough to risk Alec knowing he’d done it. Nick had thought, that when he and Grigor and Rentaro and Alec had become kind of a unit, a…a friend group, that Alec had gotten better. Had stopped drinking. Had been less erratic and irresponsible. And he’d been…really happy for him. But. That had probably been just an act too, something to distract people. And either way, it hadn’t actually been Alec. It had never been Alec…

The real Alec was dead somewhere in this building. Nick wondered if he had been anything like the person this guy was pretending to be. If the real Alec and he would have been friends. But he couldn’t think about that much, so he stopped, and tried to go back to thinking about nothing.

“Hey!” said Rentaro, running into the room and then hesitating just short of them. He’d definitely been going in for a hug, and then second-guessed every decision he’d ever made, and it was painfully awkward to watch. “Rachel—welcome back,” he said, trying to save it.

“Hi,” said Rachel, giving him a warm smile.

“What’s going on?” asked Jane timidly from beside Grigor.

That’s right. You never even found out there were two of them, thought Nick sympathetically.

“Uh. Twins,” said Grigor, still kind of reeling himself, “You only ever met the one who was already in the room until a few minutes ago. The one waiting downstairs is her sister, Kim.”

“I’m very confused…” said Jane quietly.

“Henry!” said Rachel, spotting him in the lift. Henry smiled at her and gave a wave, and she shot to her feet and ran over and hugged him with enough force that as paper-thin as he was right now, she knocked him into the elevator wall and he almost fell over.

“H-hi,” said Henry unsteadily, grinning at her, “Glad you’re okay.”

“You too!” said Rachel, arms wrapped tight around him and eyes squeezed shut, “Thank you so much. For everything.”

“You too,” said Henry, returning the hug as best he could, “You were amazing.”

Kim joined them and turned it into a group hug.

“So you were never dead?” said Lori, blinking at her, “Wow. Holy smokes you did good, kiddo. Everyone bought that.”

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” said Dylan, starting to go over to greet her too, and then hesitating, because he and Nick were kind of guarding Alec.

“You too Dylan,” said Rachel, beaming at him.

“Hi,” offered Grigor happily, “I’d come hug you, but-“

“-You’ve got your hands full,” agreed Rachel, almost giggling. She glanced past him to Alec, and her expression changed. It got serious, and hurt, and she let go of Henry and took Kim’s hand, kind of backing a step away.

Alec had almost looked happy, watching her reunite with everyone, but as soon as she looked at him, his expression changed too, and he looked away from her and past the floor at nothing.

“So. We just go to the top?” Nick asked Henry, “Are we close enough to some kind of…human residence of any kind that we can get to a phone? Or a car?”

“There’s a phone in the office,” said Alec, not looking up, “The windowsill has a hidden compartment. I’m the only one who can unlock it, though. It needs my fingerprint and retina scan.”

Nick looked over at him. His eyes were still fixed solidly on the elevator floor. “Okay,” said Nick, tone low and level, “Get it for us, then.”

Alec glanced at him for a second, and then gave a nod and took a step into the room, looking at no one. Nick went with him, and Dylan came after.

“Don’t try anything stupid,” said Dylan, more tired and tense than anything.

“I won’t,” said Alec quietly.

Yeah. Dylan might be right. I…guess I should… Nick took the pistol out of its holster and checked the safety, then stayed close to Alec, weapon in hand, just in case. He didn’t love the feeling of doing that.

In the corner of the room, there was a tiny window. Not big enough for even a small person to have possibly fit through, and it was just barely at ground level, but it let in daylight, and Nick felt almost sick with relief at the sight of the sun. He’d had no idea how much he’d missed that, until he was looking at it again. Alec approached the little windowsill and slid his left thumb along the edge kind of awkwardly, with his wrists bound, and it lit up light blue at his touch. The sill slid back and a little black console embedded in the wood appeared. Alec leaned forward and brought his left eye level with the scanner, and it made a little ‘beep’, and a drawer slid out. Alec stepped back, and stopped moving. “In there.”

Nick cautiously stepped forward and checked the drawer. There were several things in it. Files, a notebook, a camera, some piece of tech he didn’t recognize, and a phone. Nick took the phone, half expecting it to be an elaborate trap and shock him, but nothing happened. He tried to unlock the screen, but it made an angry sound as soon as he touched the screen. There weren’t any buttons on it. He looked to Alec.

“I’ll get it,” said Alec, trying not to meet his gaze. He held out his hands.

Nick passed it over, and Alec tapped what looked like random parts of the screen, and grimaced, having difficulty maneuvering with his hands tied together. The phone made an angry sound at him too.

“What are you trying to do?” said Dylan tensely, stepping closer.

“I-I’m not,” said Alec shakily, glancing from one to the other, “I can’t do it right like this.”

“We’re not untying you,” said Dylan, very firm, and extremely suspicious.

“I’m not lying,” said Alec. He looked at Nick for help.

No. Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like I’m the one who might help you. I can’t. I can’t do this.

“Here,” he said, holding the phone kind of shakily out to him, “If you can hold it still for me, I think I can do it like this.”

Nick said nothing and held the phone up. Alec tried to find an angle that worked, and then used his index finger to quickly tap parts of the screen in what looked like a memorized sequence, even though there was no grid on the screen or anything. Whatever he’d done worked, though, and it lit up blue like the sill had. Alec lowered his hands.

“It’ll work now,” said Alec, “It’s pretty straightforward. Phone icon. You can call for help.”

“Where are we?” asked Dylan.

“China,” said Alec quietly.

“What’s the emergency code for China?” asked Dylan.

Right. It’s different, remembered Nick, hesitating halfway to hitting a 9 on the keypad.

“It’s 110,” said Alec, looking at him only for a second, “For police. 120 for an ambulance.”

Nick started to hit ‘110’, and then hesitated. “Henry.”

“Y-yeah?” said Henry, stopping mid-conversation with Rachel and Kim and Rentaro, back in the elevator.

“You should make the call. You know more than anybody but Alec,” Crap! No. That’s not his name. It was too late though, he’d said it. “What happened. It’s, uh, 110, on the phone,” he finished a little awkwardly, because correcting his mistake would have felt even worse.

“Oh. Uhm. Sure,” said Henry. Nick walked over and gave him the phone.

“Come on,” said Dylan, nudging Alec. No. No, that’s right. He’s…’Frank’. He was never Alec. Frank complied and walked back onto the elevator, looking at no one. Everyone tried to move further away from him, closer to the walls.

“Okay,” said Henry, hitting numbers on the keypad, “Last stop.”

The elevator began to rise, and Henry dialed. “Hello? Hi. I need help. Uh. I’m not sure where I am, where we are. There’s a bunch of us. Sorry. Sorry. I’ll slow down. I-I don’t know Chinese. Am I…u-understandable enough?” He glanced at the others in the lift, just in case, and people shook their heads. A bunch of Americans, a couple Greeks, two Brits, and a teenager from Japan. They had not hit the one-of-us-knows-Chinese-as-a-first-or-second-language lottery.

“I can speak it,” said Frank quietly.

“Yeah, that isn’t happening,” said Dylan.

Frank looked at the ground again.

“Okay. Thank you,” said Henry, still on the phone, “Hi. Sorry-I—”

The elevator doors slid open, and suddenly they were standing in fresh air again.

“Whoa,” said Rachel, stepping off the elevator and onto solid ground. The others hurried off after her, taking in the trees and grass and nature and ability to really breathe.

I can’t believe we actually made it. Relief actually hit Nick then. He hadn’t felt it, not when Alec was surrendering, or explaining, or on the ride up. He’d been thinking about too much to really remember this was a big part of what was happening. We’re free. We lived. Almost all of them. They’d lost three, since waking up at the base of an elevator much like this one, surrounded by strangers, but almost all of the people he’d gotten to know over the last few weeks were still there. Living and breathing, and stepping out into sunshine. All of his close friends had made it. He had been so sure Grigor was gone, but he wasn’t. The big guy stepped out after Rachel, still towing an unconscious Niobe, and looked around. Smiling, really smiling. Everyone was. We’re out.

“Mountains,” said Grigor, almost painfully happy, looking back at him and the people still in the lift. He was right. They were somewhere in the mountains. The whole thing must have been underground, built into the earth. It was so wonderful to see the sun again.

For a moment, Nick felt better too, feeling the wind on his face for the first time in weeks. He saw the look of relief and hope and happiness on Dylan’s face as they glanced in each other’s directions, and then Nick saw Alec between them. He was watching Kim and Rachel laugh and spin each other around on the grass, still gushing. Rachel grabbing Rentaro’s hand and saying something Nick couldn’t quite catch, then hugging him, and Kim piling on too. Watching Lori and Henry walk outside together, Henry still stumbling over himself, trying to give details on the phone, Lori taking in the scenery with relief. Grigor finding somewhere in the grass he could set Niobe down, checking her pulse, still worried. Jane hovering by him and looking around with big eyes. And Alec looked…What exactly? Not…sad. Not just sad, anyway. There was a word for it, Nick thought, just one he wasn’t remembering. Like someone looking at friend going off to work at a job they had been hoping to get, but one that would also take them to another continent. Or somebody reading an old note from someone they used to know, that had meant a whole lot to them once. He couldn’t really find a word for that feeling, but he knew what it was.

You have to stop. You have to quit trying to make sense of things—you never will. You’ll make yourself go mad, Nick told himself, looking away.

“Come on,” said Dylan, nudging Alec’s—Frank’s shoulder. Frank complied and walked off the lift a few steps and then stopped and went still again. Nick followed them. The last one off. He looked back at the awful hunk of metal, the opening to a place that had brought nothing but suffering and pain, until the doors had shut behind them. Good. I never want to see that place again.

“Okay,” said Henry, “Thank you.” Nick had missed a lot of his conversation with the police, but it seemed to still be going on. “I’ll keep the line open. No one is…” He looked over at the others. “B-badly hurt, as far as I can tell. We’ve got a couple of cuts, and I’m uh…” He held up his own bony hand and looked at it, and then swallowed and kept going, “n-not great. Weak. But no one is seriously hurt. One of us has been drugged, though. Sleeping pills.”

“Veronal,” offered Dylan, trying to help.

“Veronal,” echoed Henry to the phone, “And she’s still unconscious. Yes—she’s breathing. We have her propped up.” Grigor had sat down, but still had her in his lap. “There’s ten of us,” he added, and then, glancing over at Frank, “And our captor. Eleven in all. He’s tied up, and he surrendered, but he’s still alive too.” Henry listened for a moment, and then turned to the others. “We’re pretty far out from the city, but they’re sending people. We have to sit tight for maybe half an hour, though.”

Lori sighed, but the others seemed to take that okay.

Half an hour. Not too long. He wished it was sooner, but there was nothing to do about it. They’d just have to sit and wait. I better call my mom and tell her I’m alive… thought Nick kind of sheepishly. He hoped they weren’t too worried. Kim and Rachel had said they were orphans, but they had to have some relatives, and Jane and Rentaro’s parent’s must have been about ill at this point too. Orphans? Right, he’d forgotten. Nick glanced over at them again. They were talking animatedly to Rentaro, explaining things and gesturing wildly. He couldn’t make out all of it, but he heard, ‘Blackout,’ and ‘Elevator shaft,’ and ‘Climbing,’ and a few other things that gave him a general idea they were probably discussing Rachel’s wild escape. I wish I’d gotten to know you were alive, thought Nick tiredly. But of course Kim hadn’t told anyone. And that was good. She’d been close with him, but she’d been close with Alec too, and if he’d found out? What would you have done? he wondered, looking at Frank again, Would you have tracked her down and killed her?

He had been so upset. Nick still had really fresh memories of comforting Alec when Rachel had…when they had thought that Rachel had killed herself. I really thought you were sad, thought Nick, trying to see if he could find any answers at all in the blank face a few feet to his right, staring at nothing, You were…you were so genuine. You were so heartbroken. Talking about your missing sister. I was so worried about you. I thought. I. I thought…

He looked away.

“What happens now?” asked Rachel, looking from one to the other of the older people around her, starting with Henry and ending with Dylan.

“Uh,” said Henry, who wasn’t talking on the phone anymore, but was still holding it, “I think all we can do is wait.”

“But after,” said Kim, on the same wavelength.

“You’ll get to go home,” promised Dylan with a smile, “I’ll make sure. Probably the police can set something up, but I’ll buy you a ticket if not.”

The twins beamed at him.

How are they gonna survive this? wondered Nick with a sinking feeling, no matter how happy they looked right now, How are two teenagers with no family going to make it through unpacking the kind of stuff you two have seen here?

Honestly, all of them were…

Beside him, he sensed movement, and saw Frank had turned. He was scanning the nearby terrain intently, when he’d been almost zoned out before, and Nick took that in with a note of suspicion.

“Hey. What are you doing.”

Frank glanced back at him, surprised. “Just looking. I haven’t been out in a while.”

You’re lying, thought Nick, trying to figure out how he could tell that. Why are you lying? It was the held, steady eye contact—that was it. Alec—no. Frank didn’t do that if he was feeling bad and not lying. Alec had done that when he was feeling bad, if Nick had asked him how he was. If he didn’t want Nick to worry, he’d look him right in the face and smile and say, “No, it’s nothing. I’m just tired,” but Nick had always been able to tell. That’s just paranoid, Nick told himself, Obviously you never had any idea if he was lying, because he was lying constantly. And he probably was never feeling bad. You just thought you knew him a little. That was…true. So. Maybe it was nothing.

“Sit down,” said Dylan to Frank, “I’ll feel safer.”

Frank obliged, kind of gracelessly taking a seat without arms to steady himself, still looking around. Not at the people, but at the mountain.

“Where’ll you go?” asked Rachel, watching that, and then glancing at Dylan. “Back…to England?”

“I’m uh.” Dylan hesitated and glanced at Nick, “Uh—can you?” He indicated Frank.

“Yeah, I’ll watch him,” said Nick.

Dylan turned and went over a little closer to Rachel and Kim, and gave Rachel a hug for real. Nick would have liked to do that too. He was so glad she hadn’t died the way he’d thought.

“Nick,” said Frank quietly.

Nick glanced down at him. He looked a little unsteady, but more focused than before. Thinking hard.

“I don’t want to hurt someone again,” said Frank, like he was having a hard time finding the right order for words, “I know I…have to pay. For what I did. But I don’t…” He looked up into his face, and then trailed off. He’d been going to say more, but something made him change his mind, Nick saw him give up. His expression fall, and close off again, tired, and resigned, and he looked back at the ground. After a second, he shut his eyes, and took a few steady breaths.

Nick watched him, trying to figure that out. It was so impossible. All of this. He didn’t think he could do it. I still feel like I’m just talking to Alec, and something will click into place and it’ll all make sense. It will have all been some big trick, or I’ll have been asleep, or something. But that’s not going to ever happen. Is it.

Frank opened his eyes again and looked up at him. His eyes went to the gun. “You put the safety on?”

He’d asked it like why did you do this? not did you? and Nick tilted the gun in his hand, double-checking that it was still on, and felt something slam into his legs, and then he was careening backwards, legs swept out from under him, and hit the ground hard on his back, air knocked out of him.

Vaguely, he was aware of people shouting, and movement, but really all he was paying attention to was what he knew had just happened. Frank had moved on the ground and swept his legs out, and from his back, Nick could just barely see him up and running. Trying to get away. No way.

Nick dragged himself up with a vengeance and took off after him as fast as fast as he could, barely even registering the other people doing the same. Frank had bought himself maybe a six second lead, but Nick wasn’t about to lose him. He flipped the safety off the gun and ran hard, tearing through underbrush, eyes locked on the figure in dark brown ahead of him, trying to lose them in the woods. Lori and Dylan and Grigor were with him at first, Rentaro and one of the twins too, he thought, but he lost the younger ones fast, and then lost the others. Running blind, Nick heard gunshots four times, from on his left—it could only be Lori, and he didn’t even know what he hoped that meant. Just kept running. And after a minute, he lost even the sound of the others nearby, shouting and pushing past tree branches, and it was just him. For a second he thought he’d even lost Frank, pausing on the edge of a steep hill, breathing hard, and then he saw him. He’d gained about sixty yards, but he was still in sight, and Nick took a shortcut, following the path of least resistance above him on the hill, trying to keep him in sight. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost the belt, and his arms were free now. It took Nick a minute to figure out what exactly he was doing, and then Nick saw it. Down the slope, on his far right. A road. He was trying to make it to the road.

Immediately, Nick changed course. Straight for the road, only barely keeping Frank in sight at all. He’s smart—I bet he’s got a bike or something. A way to get out of this. You can’t let him do that—you can’t let him get away. After all this—

Breathing raggedly, Nick jumped a little ravine and stumbled on the other side, and he temporarily checked the safety back on, a little afraid of shooting himself, and he kept going. The road was close now. So close. And arms pumping at his sides, lungs burning for oxygen, he broke the tree line at the base of the hill one second before Frank did, about twenty feet behind him. Nick had been facing back, and Frank facing forward, and they saw each other immediately, and he saw shock register on Frank, and he turned to run, and Nick flipped off the safety and pulled the trigger, aiming well to the right of him.

The gunshot was so loud it made Nick flinch, but he shouted past it anyway. “Stop! I won’t miss the next one!”

Frank froze, breathing hard himself, and slowly turned to face Nick. Nick started to walk towards him, and Frank took a step back, shaking his head at him.

“Don’t move,” warned Nick, pointing the gun at his chest and feeling sick doing that. He hadn’t pointed a gun at someone before. He’d used one to shoot clay pigeons in college, at a friend’s house on weekends, so he was a fine shot, but holding something that would kill someone if you accidentally increased pressure was such a…shaky way to feel. He didn’t like the lack of control it gave. The way he was constantly thinking about what would happen if the trigger was pulled. Nick had missed it at first, but he realized then that Frank’s shoulder was bleeding, and he thought for a horrifying moment that as wide as he’d aimed, somehow he’d hit him, but. No, he’d turned around, that was right, and it was his left shoulder that was bleeding. If he’d hit him, he’d have hit the other side. And Nick remembered Lori, and the four shots in the woods. One of those must have landed. Somehow, though, the sight of a bullet hole already in him just made his hands feel shakier on the gun, even though the bullet hadn’t come from him.

“Nick, wait,” said Frank kind of desperately, raising his hands, but still backing up.

“I said don’t move!” shouted Nick.

Frank stopped, breathing fast. He looked at the gun, and then at Nick. “Please.”

“’Please?’” echoed Nick, hand still shaking, “Please, what, Alec!” He kicked himself mentally. Not Alec. “Please let you go?” he continued, trying to move past that, “Let you run off and kidnap twelve more people to murder?”

“No,” said Frank, almost desperate. He started to take a step back again, because Nick was still advancing, but he saw Nick move the gun and hesitated. Instead, he stopped and just looked him in the face. Pleading. “I’m—I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“By running away?” asked Nick, furious, and hurt, and a lot of things he hadn’t had time to begin to unpack.

“I’ll turn myself in,” said Frank, “But I can’t do it like this.”

“You can’t let us be the ones to do it?” asked Nick, angry and disbelieving, still advancing on him.

“No—Nick—please,” said Frank, watching the steadily shortening distance. He started to back up again. “It’s not that—I—”

“—I will shoot you if I have to!” warned Nick.

Frank stopped, and looked him in the face again, shaky now. “I ran because you all would never have listened to me, not because I wanted to escape! I’m telling you the truth. I know—I know what I did. I know I have to face justice for that, but you can’t turn me over to the police.”

He looked so desperate. He looked like he really meant that. ‘Can’t?’ –No. Stop. Don’t listen to him. You’re better than this. He’d say anything; you can’t trust him. He’d hesitated though, without meaning to, said nothing and forgotten to take his next step forward, and he could see hope on Frank’s face, taking that as a sign he might listen.

“Listen, Nick,” said Frank, “I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know it’s bad. I know I’m all kinds of broken and messed up, and I know I have done things that I have to pay for. B-but I also know I’m not myself. I’m not the person I used to be. And I know that right now, but I didn’t for so long, and I did things that I already can’t understand. Things that made sense to me yesterday. And back there, in the elevator, when you started to cuff me, I-I wanted to do them again. I started to crack, and feel like someone completely different, but for a second, I thought that the thing I was doing was the crazy thing, not the thing I was about to do. And I—I have no idea how to stop it.”

He looked so distraught, and confused, and lost, and Nick understood that in his soul, because it was how he felt right now, pointing a loaded gun he knew he was supposed to be willing to use at the person who had been maybe the closest friend he’d ever really had. Trying to make sense of all of the time he’d spent with him, and how they had ended up here, face to face like this.

“If I let them take me, I know what’s going to happen,” continued Frank, almost begging, “I don’t know when. I don’t know if it’ll be as soon as they cuff me, or the first time someone shoves me to get me to move, or when they put me in the back of a car, or a cell, or chain me to a table to interrogate me, but somewhere along that line, I’m going to snap, and they’re not going to be ready for me. I don’t know how to stop that from happening. I don’t think I can. But I know what I’m capable of. And they won’t be able to stop me.”

Frank lowered his hands, and just stood there, facing him. Nick still hadn’t moved. He was maybe ten feet away, gun still drawn.

“If it hadn’t been you,” said Frank, looking sad and exhausted and broken, “If it wasn’t someone I…” He looked him in the eyes for just a second, and then looked away like it had been too hard to do. “Trusted. That I…felt like I knew. Then…I think I might have killed everyone in that elevator, without even meaning to. And I-I can’t do that again. Please, Nick. I want to make things right. I know I can’t just go off and hide. I know I. I-I might do anything, forget myself again. B-but there’s a way! I have people I know. People I am completely certain I wouldn’t hurt. People I trust. I’ll go to them, and I’ll tell them everything, and I’ll turn myself in to them, and they can make sure whoever takes me is prepared.”

“…I can’t just believe that,” said Nick, trying so hard to see in his face if he was lying. As if that had ever been something he’d really been able to do. “Frank, I have no reason to think you’re telling me the truth. For all I know, you’ll change your mind and come after us again, or we passed whatever your ‘test’ was, and you’ll go kill another room full of liars and petty thieves. I would be insane to let you go.”

“Then shoot me,” said Frank hopelessly, “Because I’m not coming with you.”

“You would do that to me?” asked Nick, so betrayed by that. He heard his voice crack, and he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t hide how much that had hurt. He tried to force Frank to meet his eyes, and he did, surprised by that response. “After everything? You would force me to choose between letting you run off and kill people like Lou again, and gunning down my best friend? You would force me to become a killer, no matter what I do?”

“I—no,” said Frank shakily, sounding and looking just like Alec, “No. Nick.” He stopped and thought quickly, frantically, eyes moving, but looking at nothing, and then finally at Nick. “If I go back with you, and lose my mind again and kill a station full of policemen, you’ll just feel the same way. Please. If you let me go, no one else has to get hurt. I-I know I’ve lied to you, and it must be so impossible for you to trust me, but I’m not lying to you now. If you let me go, I’ll turn myself in—I’ll have them call you as soon as I do. I’m done! I am. I’m myself right now, at least more than I am somebody else, and I just want this to be over. This is the only way I think I can do that.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” asked Nick, chest aching, gun leveled.

“You—”

“—Don’t say that I know you!” said Nick, desperate, sure that had been what he’d been about to say, “I’ve never known who you were! I don’t know anything about you! I’m not even sure I know your real name!”

For a few seconds, Frank just looked at him, sad. “Nick. I’m so sorry,” he said finally, much quieter than he’d said anything else. “You have no idea how sorry I am. I. I wish I could undo all this.” He lowered his arms completely, shoulders slumped, standing still in the road. “I know you…won’t believe this. Maybe it’ll just make things worse. …But I did care about you.”

Nick wanted to shout at him for saying that. There were hundreds of things he could have said, and they were all true, but he didn’t say anything, because Frank looked so far away and hopeless, and there was enough of Alec in that look that he lost the anger before he could put it into words, and he just felt broken, and wounded, and confused. He wanted so badly to hate him, but he didn’t know how to. Not yet anyway, not all the way. I wish that too, thought Nick against his will, I wish you could undo it. And it’s you who has no idea how much.

“There’s another way,” said Frank, voice empty and dead, “If you can’t trust me to do what I said, then give me the gun, and I’ll do it myself.”

The thought of that horrified Nick, and he started to take a step back on impulse. “No.”

“I don’t see another-“ started Frank.

“—How do I know you wouldn’t just shoot me?” said Nick, trying to recover some of the intensity he’d had before, to not let Frank know he was listening to any of it, and Frank stared at him, taken aback, and then his face fell, and lost the tiny fragment of hope that had still been in it. Because he had thought the reluctance had been over Nick’s desire for him to live. Which…it had been. He just hadn’t wanted him to know. “Besides,” said Nick more quietly, looking away and giving in to the guilt he knew he had no reason to be feeling, “Even if you didn’t, how would that be any better?”

“…I don’t know what to do then. I don’t know how to prove it to you,” said Frank hopelessly, not really begging this time, just asking. Pleading less intensely. Pleading like you would with a friend. Almost just talking, like they would have yesterday, when the world had been a place Nick had still understood. “Nick, I just don’t want to hurt someone again. I don’t know any other way. Please. I know you have no reason to believe me, after everything I’ve done to you, but I will turn myself in.”

Nick glanced up at him and the person who had been his friend held his gaze, asking silently for him to trust him this one last time.

“I know what I did,” continued Frank, “I know how awful it was. And not just the people I killed; Kim, Rachel, Rentaro, Jane—kids? And Grigor, and Dylan, my friends—and you? I wouldn’t…I won’t let myself get away with what I did to you. I don’t want to get away with it. I want to pay. I want to make things right. If I can. God. If I…if I can do that at all anymore. I swear to you. That’s what I want, more than anything. I just…I’m. I’m so barely here at all. You don’t know what that’s like. I feel like I could slip away and die again any second, and then wake up in another year to see I’m even more of a monster than the last time I was in my own body. They did something to me. Those two years I was locked up. I don’t know when, or how, or which thing they did turned me into this, but I’m so messed up. And I can see that now, I can, but I don’t know how to not be like this again. My brain isn’t mine anymore. It does things I wouldn’t have ever wanted, and I obey it. I-I don’t even know if I’m…sane.” That looked like it had been incredibly painful to say, but he kept going. Forced himself to. “I know if I turn myself in to my friends, I won’t hurt them, and they’ll know what to do with me. That’s all I want to do. I just want this to be over. I want to stop. But I’m so scared that if someone else tries to stop me, I’ll go right back to where I was. Please.”

“…Your brother,” said Nick, holding his gaze. It hurt to do that. So impossibly much. How could it hurt this much just to look at someone? “What was his name.”

Frank looked confused, and surprised, and sad, but he answered. “Joe.” His voice was soft and low and full of affection and pain when he said it. “His name was Joe.” He glanced up and met Nick’s gaze again and tried to smile, but his eyes welled up. “And he would never have turned out like me. No matter what someone did to him. You would have liked him.”

“Swear on Joe,” said Nick, feeling sick himself, “Swear on your brother that you’ll do what you’re promising me, and you’ll do it immediately.”

“I swear,” said Frank, shakily holding his gaze, and then looking away once he’d said it. He shut his eyes. “I swear on Joe.”

Nick lowered the gun.

Frank opened his eyes slowly, and looked up at him. Watched him for a few seconds, like he was waiting to see if the decision was real, and then he reached up almost absently and felt the bullet wound in his shoulder and winced. He looked at the blood on his hand, then back at Nick. “Thank you.”

Nick thought he meant that, but it was so hard to tell himself he really knew anything anymore.

For just a moment, they stood like that in silence, then Frank lowered his head and turned, and started to walk. Away from Nick, towards the far side of the road, and then past him. Nick turned and watched him go, wondering if he were a terrible person for believe him. For letting him go. For not shooting him in the back now, while he still had a chance. Or maybe shooting him in the leg. Something that would stop him, force him to wait for the police to come. He couldn’t, though, and he knew it. He thought that if Frank had run, hadn’t talked to him at all, he probably couldn’t have done it either. He would have pulled the trigger, and tried to miss. As awful as that was. Because he was still looking at this person and seeing someone else. And he couldn’t kill them.

On the side of the road, Frank removed some thick underbrush by a large boulder, and tugged out a small motorcycle. He brought it to the road, and Nick tried not to notice the make and model, or the license, because he didn’t want to struggle with himself over lying if someone asked him. Frank climbed onto the bike, and took a helmet clipped to the bars and placed it on his head, and then glanced back at Nick one last time. Nick stayed in the road where he had been before, watching him go.

“I…know you can’t be glad you met me,” said Frank, “But you should know that being around you got me back where I am now. Even if you hate that you thought I was someone worth getting close to, you should know that doing that saved a lot of people’s lives. So. Hopefully that makes some tiny part of it something that…you can.” He had been trying to say something nice, but he was struggling. His voice sounded choked. “Y-you should be proud of that. That. You helped…not me. But. That you helped them.” He looked at Nick shakily, trying to see if that had done anything to help him, and then he looked away and flipped the visor over the helmet. He started up the motorcycle, and said something else over the roar of it, but so quietly Nick couldn’t quite make it out. He thought though, watching the motorcycle take a corner and fade in the distance, that it had been, “Goodbye.”