Call Me Zero (Frerard)

33: There's one thing they'll never take from you.

A/N: last one. 

~

Between living and being dead, there's some sort of limbo.

A never-ending ocean of numbness, that makes you feel as if you were dead, and wish it really could be so, because it would be so much easier that way. But somehow you were still alive. If you could even call it that.

That's where Frank found himself.

And on the day he heard the knock on his door, he would have been shocked at the fact that he was even able to get up off the couch at all. He would have been, if he could feel anything anymore.

Frank didn't know what time it was, he didn't even know what day it was. All he knew was that when he opened the door, the sun was still shining outside, and there were two men in suits standing there too. They were accompanied by a woman.

Her face was familiar, Frank knew he had seen it.

To be truthful, he knew exactly who she was, but he didn't care enough to try to recall her name. He didn't care about anything anymore.

"Mr. Iero," she said patiently.

Frank didn't respond. He simply stared at them with cold, tired eyes.

"Do you know why we're here?" the woman asked him.

She took his lack of reply as a no.

"Mr. Iero, I'm sure you're well aware that the government has a strict policy of keeping extraterrestrial activity hidden from the public."

Frank's expression remained unchanged. The woman continued.

"Therefore... Well," she cleared her throat and straightened her shirt uncomfortably, "We can't risk having, um, well... having something slip out."

Frank cocked an eyebrow, the tiny movement barely even noticeable.

"So, what? Is this your way of telling me you're kidnapping me and taking me back to that fucking place?"

Frank's tone was quickly becoming sharp.

The woman cleared her throat again.

"I-I'm... that's not exactly how I would put it, I-"

"Fine," Frank interrupted her.

"Excuse me?"

"I said fine. Take me. I don't fucking care. I have nothing left anyway. Lost my job, bank's taking my house away... Do whatever the fuck you want."

She seemed to be at a loss for words.

"I... okay. Okay. You can gather your things if you wish, Mr. Iero."

"...My things?"

"Well..." the woman laughed nervously, "I mean, it's not like we can ever let you back out into the public, not with the knowledge you posses..." her tone was light as she tried to play off the weight of what she had just said.

Frank felt his stomach churn. He just nodded. Did he really have a say in all of this anyway?

He didn't have any fight left in him anymore.

Frank had no idea what he really needed to take as he gathered things together. The first items he got were all of Mitch's things, as well as the cat himself, and brought them all to the two men who were still waiting. The put everything into the back of their black van and resumed their places on the front porch until Frank was ready.

He put his clothes in a bag, various little objects that had some sort of sentimental value or another. Books, CDs, favorite movies, even a few records...

The pile by the front door was gradually growing.

Last, he gingerly lifted Pansy from the stand in the music room and moved to open his guitar case. He hadn't even touched the thing since before the road trip, but he couldn't bear to leave it.

As Frank opened the guitar case, he was shocked to see a stack of papers placed neatly inside of it. He lay Pansy down on the floor carefully, kneeling next to the case and picking up the papers from inside.

Looking through them, Frank recognized them as the papers from Zero's notepad. All the writing they had done, from the very beginning of writing out the alphabet, their own name, and Frank's, right up until the very end.

At the very bottom was a second stack - drawings this time. Frank unfolded one and was met with the sight of a familiar cartoony version of him and Zero. Above himself, his name written in childlike penmanship - F-R-A-N-K - and above the figure of Zero, their own name, as well as their other name - their real name - written in their own language.

Frank piled the papers back up and folded them tightly, holding the stack against his chest. He sat on the floor for a moment, silent, and just thinking. Then, he shut the guitar case softly, rose to his feet, and went back to the front of the house - with only the papers in hand.

"Let's go," he told the men.

One of them stepped into the house to begin gathering things from the pile Frank had made near the door.

"No," he said.

The man stopped his actions and looked up at Frank with raised eyebrows.

"Don't you need your things, sir?"

Frank shook his head and held up the stack of folded papers for the two of them to see.

"I have all I need right here."

~

A/N: Well, this is it. the very last authors note. honestly there aren't really any words for this but I just want to thank you guys so so much for everything. this has been a long and emotional ride for all of us and im super proud of this work. it's the first piece of writing I've ever actually committed to and finished and it's crazy how much feedback I got on it and how many people liked it. thank you so much again. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I have. 

personally,

 I hate the ending myself, but it started with an alright scene.