Identity [Gerard Way] *Completed*

Chapter Forty Three

Gerard looks more alive than he's ever been. Looks like everything, everything he's been hoping and praying about, all his dreams of being... something. Looks like they're all up there, in the sky, where the relentless sound of a helicopter's rhythm beats.

Remember when Gerard said he was going to find out who did this? You gotta think real, real far back. Search your brain for the memory. Search before you forget. I remember the words, there. There in the dim light of the sewer, the pounding feet above our heads, we'd been talking. About what, I don't think I can recall, but... I remember the words.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna find out one day."

But, as you know, Gerard's already found out who did this. He already knows, but now he gets to see. Gets to see the president's face. See the eyes that wrote the first words of the law down.

The air stirs, becoming less of a breeze and more of a wicked wind. Whistles in my ears. Loud. Loud enough to drown out the sound of my heart beating.

To my left, a large crowd of black and grey shifts into position, and, I think - are those - is it more of them? More of the escaped people from the prison? I don't think anyone else notices the crowd. No. They're not even looking. They've got their backs turned the other way, even. And, Gerard, he doesn't even see them all.

But, I guess there's a good reason for that.

Everyone's drawn to the sound that takes up the sky. The helicopter, the one that holds the man who destroyed everything.

Gerard's squeezing my hand. Tightly, as if preparing for something.

All the eyes look up at the at the grey sky, mine and Gerard's included, and I can't help but feel like they're all expecting the same thing. A shiny helicopter. Expecting it to come floating out of the glowing white heavens, or something stupid, and I bet they're all expecting the president to realize the mess he's made, and I know they want him to fix it.

But he probably won't.

Most likely not. You see, I know. I have to know. Because with a life like the one we've had, with all the madness and deceit, the only thing we know is let down. The president isn't flying here to end the law. Of course not. He started it. I really don't know what else he could be here for, but I know that it's not for something good. Call it a hunch.

It's - it's kinda a weird thing. The feeling that hits the pit of my stomach when the helicopter starts to glide into view. It's a... difficult thing to explain, but, I know I've felt it before.

This is like the feeling I got when I saw Gerard being taken from my grasp, with all that grass from that park underneath me. This is like the time when I felt the bullet graze the side of my head, heard the break in Gerard's voice. This feels like the time when Gerard and I were arguing about something, and all that glass and wood from that apartment's windows exploded onto our heads. This feels as moving as finding the shelter full of others, yet as terrifying as when Gerard left me behind.

Feels like when Gerard's house was unlocked and I found him in that still, unconscious state on the ground in his bedroom. When I saw the marks on his arm. When I heard the door lock for the first time.