The Lies and the Lives of the Taken

Gerard 1

       No matter how hard I try, I can't take my eyes off him. The way his dark hair falls over his face, how soft his facial features are, the shallow sounds of his breathing. He's not moving beside the expanding and collapsing of his chest. His eyes remain closed, perfectly still. I never caught sight of what color his eyes are. I'm assuming they're brown since his hair is dark. His eyes could hold a wondrous color. They could be a deep blue, brighter than the Caspian Sea. Or maybe they're a magnificent green, the shade of the canopy layer of the rainforest. Or perhaps they are, in fact, brown,  copper and earthly. What does it matter what his eye color is? I may never find out. He may never open his eyes again.

        This isn't how I should have met him. His name is Frank Iero and I should have learned that through him telling me, not by going through his wallet and pulling out his ID, reading his name. I should have been able to look him in his eyes and know the color of his irises, not the shape of his eyelids closed. I should be hearing the sound of his voice not the sound of his weak breathing. If we were to have met, it should be while he was living, not while watching him die. 

        I've lost track of how long it's been. At least a few hours, maybe more, but I don't care. I should be lying in that bed right now, not him. Why did he do it? He doesn't even know me? Why would he save me? I did this to him. I was careless, I thought I had it but I was wrong. I'm not used to this, looking at the aftermath of an accident. This is my first time messing up, I've never made a mistake before. It should have cost me my life but instead, it's cost me him. I don't even know who he is but eating me alive.

        They say you will make mistakes, it'll happen sometimes, no matter how much training you take. You can't control everything but you can do your best to minimize it. But even after all our training, nothing can prepare you for what happens when someone innocent gets hurt, even if it was out of your own control. The guilt, the pain, the wondering. 

        The door opens I turn around, reaching for my holster but I don't have it with me. Brendon stands at the door with a soft expression. "Hey," he says. I ease up a bit, sighing and glancing down. I wasn't supposed to come see him but I abandoned mission the moment I saw Frank go down. He walks over to me, the door shutting behind him with a heavy click. "You didn't shoot him," he says.

        "I know that, but it still happened," I whisper. 

        "Macy told you to leave him," Brendon says.

        "Well, Macy isn't here, now is she? She's back at the states."

        Brendon stiffens for a moment. "Well, for now, but she's flying in." I look at him nervously. Macy rarely comes to a mission out of the country. "You took out your earpiece and ditched you tracker, you went off the grid."

        "Yeah, which reminds me, how did you find me?"

        Brendon stares at me with a soft expression. "You're my partner and after everything we've been through over the years, I know you, Gerard." There's a pause between us and the ambient sounds of the hospital room fill the silence. The monitor tracking his heart rate with a steady beeping, the hissing sound of his oxygen distributing air, the muffled clamoring from the hallway. "Who is he?"

        "His name is Frank Iero, he's 22. An American college student actually."

        "Really? What's he doing in Austria?"

        I give a shrug. "There's only so much you can find out about a person who's unconscious."

        "Right, yeah. But how long are you staying here?" I don't answer him. "Gerard, I don't know what it's like what you're going through, but-"