You're Only Dead

by Jack Parker

  For the first week of your absence, my calls were not returned. I could never seem to get ahold of your father, and when I did he was short with me, insisting that you were too busy with schoolwork to speak. Sometimes he would even say that your behavior at the time did not warrant the privilege of a chat. This worried me terribly. I feared that these were excuses he was giving because you did not want to speak to me. That you were angry at me for sending you away. I begged him to let me at least apologize. He told me that I should not question his care of you, and that was the last we spoke. When I called next, the number was no longer in service. I did not know what to do. I tried to contact his office, but they would not allow me to transfer through.

  Your grandfather was very upset. He had talk of lawyers, private investigators, he insisted that something terrible must have happened to you and that your father was covering it up. It took me months just to find out that you were still alive. I had to make hundreds of phone calls. You weren't enrolled in any schools, I could not find you. I had to have a friend call your father's office pretending to know him in order to ask about his son. I had to concoct this elaborate lie just to find out through a stranger whether my own grandson was alive or dead. I do not know why your father did this. But by then, I knew I had made a colossal mistake. You were growing up with clothes and food, but were you loved? Were you held? Were you kissed? I began to frantically send you letters. I would have done anything to hear that you were alright. In my heart, I feared you were not. This fear felt like fact when all of my letters were returned unopened.

  I hope that you dismissed them. I hope that you refused to speak to me. I hope that you told your father that you wanted nothing to do with us, and that he obliged you, because the alternative is too agonizing for me to bear. I am ashamed to say that as time passed without hearing from you, I presumed you did not want to seek us out. It should not have mattered. I should not have left that decision in the hands of a boy. A child should not have to wonder who loves him; he should be told, in no uncertain terms, by those that do. My husband and my daughter were only worsening. I told myself that when they had passed, I would find you myself. I would go to England and find you. But, as you now well know, that did not happen. Your grandfather died a year ago, and your mother, just this week. And now I find myself too old and frail to make the journey. I have become ill myself. I have waited too long, and now there is no more time. I should have come to you earlier. I should have come to you when you were still six. I should have never let you go in the first place. I once had so many promises of what I would do. Now, they are nothing but regrets.

  This letter will not be mailed. A local boy on my block is going to the U.K. on holiday this week with his friends and he has agreed to take it with him. He says he will slip it into the door of your father's house, where I pray with all of my might you will find it. This small miracle is all I ask of this world. My final plea. I want only this last chance to tell you how I love you.

  As a little thing you would sit in the kitchen and watch me cook, and I would give you a plate of carrots because you refused to eat the cookies. While you helped me in the garden you would try to impress me with your English, telling me the name of each vegetable, and I was very impressed indeed. At night, when you were tired and worn, you would curl up onto the couch in your grandfather's lap, where he would stroke your hair and let you watch the television with him until it was very late. You would beg not to be put to bed. Sometimes I would awaken in the morning to find both of you still there. When you get to be my age, your only company is your memories, my darling. And even though I have so many fewer of you than I wanted, they are enough to fill up all of my remaining days with love.

  I hope that you are safe. I hope that you are happy. I hope that you grow to be a man like your grandfather, proud and strong, gentle and understanding. I hope that the world finds some way to make up for how unfair it has been to you, to find a way to give you what we so thoroughly failed to provide. Most of all I hope that, even though you were cheated out of your family so very young, you build yourself another. That you find those worthy of you. That they love you terribly, and that once they have you, they refuse to ever, ever let you go. I have nothing left in this world but hope, my dear, sweet Kurt. And it is all for you.

  My eternal love,

  Grandmother

  Kurt slowly folded the letter back along its sharp creases. He then picked up the envelope and carefully slipped it back inside. For a long time he sat there, hands in his lap, staring out at the wall.

  When he came back out into the dining area, Victor and Georgie were in the kitchen while Emery sat at the table picking at a plate of potatoes and poached eggs. As soon as he saw Kurt approach, however, he stood, face hesitant. Kurt observed him for a silent moment.

  "I hope you're not angry with me," Emery said quietly. "You know I wouldn't want to hurt you, and maybe I didn't have a right to take that letter, but I just felt as though you should have it. Please…forgive me if I've—"

  Kurt reached for him, pulling Emery into a hug he could no longer stand to be without. "Danke schon," he said.

  Emery eagerly hugged him back.

  * * *

  After breakfast, when everyone was sated and everything was cleared away, plans for the immediate future began to take shape. There was no reason to stay around at this dilapidated flat any longer and it probably wasn't wise besides. The four of them spent the next few hours erasing their presence from the location entirely. Emery carefully packed Fidget away and made his way down the stairs with his only suitcase, stepping out into the crisp cold to where Victor was loading up his supplies into a car. He still had quite a few electronic odds and ends he'd taken from his house and was currently trying to find space for all of his bags in the back seat. Emery set his bag down and went over to help.

  "Good thing you pack light," Emery jested, picking up a rather heavy bag.

  Victor gave him a look as he picked up another. "Cut me some slack. I have high maintenance friends."

  After a moment Kurt appeared outside as well to observe them. "You won't fit it in like that," he commented as he watched Victor try and stack a few bags onto a seat.

  "Pitch in or shut up," Victor replied good-naturedly.

  Kurt obliged. "Stand aside."

  Victor stepped back and watched Kurt begin to file things in, leaning an elbow over and open car door with Emery next to him. "Good luck with this control freak," he said to Emery, jerking a thumb at Kurt. Then he looked back at Emery and his face turned somewhat serious. "I still can't believe we actually made it through all of this shit."

  Emery nodded. "We make a good team, you and I, don't we?"

  "Don't get any ideas. This is the last time I ever wanna go in on an adventure like the one we just had, and you better fucking believe I mean it."

  Emery chuckled softly. "Victor…I don't even know what to say. I owe you so much."

  Victor eyed him and shrugged, waving a hand. "Nah, man. You saved my ass and I saved yours."

  "But you didn't just do that. None of this would have been possible without you. I never would have found Kurt. I would be ruined—my life would be over. I can't thank you enough for what you've done."

  Victor nodded, looking down before meeting Emery's gaze again. "It's the least I could do, Em. I know I was…sort of a reluctant ass at the start of this, but you didn't get anything from me that you didn't earn. Don't get me wrong…you're fucking crazy. You're stubborn to the point of stupidity. You act before you think and you find trouble easier than anyone I've ever met. But you're also the bravest Brit on earth, the coolest guy I know, and I respect the ever-loving hell out of you."

  Emery smirked, making his way to the boot and popping it. "Well I think you're a temperamental, obnoxiously sarcastic, walking vulgarity, but I couldn't ask for a better mate."

  "Got each other pegged, huh?" Victor asked, folding his arms. He looked up at the sky and sighed. "Man. This really was too much fucking
excitement for one lifetime. I think I'm gonna have to get a real job after this. I don't care what it is; I'll sell hotdogs for the rest of my life if it means I'll never have to dodge bullets again."

  "Don't make plans just yet," Emery said. He pulled away a bag from the back of the car and came back over, shoving it up against Victor's chest.

  Victor blinked down at the bag in his arms, looking to Emery curiously. Then he opened it, seeing the massive quantity of cash inside, and balked.

  "Selling hotdogs sounds nice, but I thought you might enjoy retirement a tad more."

  Victor looked up, still too stunned to move. "This is—wh…what the fuck is this?"

  "My ransom," Emery replied, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. "Your part, at least. That's the thirty-seven and a half million I promised you two years ago. Plus interest. That puts you at a cool forty."

  "The kidnapping money…?" Victor murmured, staring down at it.

  "I found it sitting pretty in Eaton manor. I suppose once it was withdrawn Hunter never got around to filing it off again. Maybe it was too much trouble, I don't know. But there it was, collecting dust in a closet. Count it if you like."

  Victor shut the bag and lowered it, shaking his head. "Em, I can't—"

  "You'll not refuse," Emery interrupted. "It's what you're owed."

  "No, this is a fuck ton of money, this is—this is more than what four of you are supposedly worth," Victor pointed out.

  "And yet it's a marginal dent at best. I'm not keeping Hunter Eaton's money anyway. What would I do with it? Sit it in a bank account untouched for all eternity? No. It's going to do good. It'll go to people who need it more than he or I ever did. And one of those people is you."

  Victor, still gobsmacked, was shaking his head. "You have to keep something, Em. You can't leave yourself nothing."

  "I'm not," Emery said. "My mother and my father left a tidy sum in my name. Hunter never planned on telling me that…but I'm going to take it. It won't last forever, but it'll give Kurt and me a grand head start."

  "I don't…" Victor stammered. "I-I don't fucking know what to say."

  "I'd open with 'Thank you, Emery. I love you deeply and I take back that bit about you being stupid.'"

  Victor grinned, then set the bag on a car seat and wrenched Emery into a nearly painful hug. Emery squeezed him just as tight and felt content.

  Emery pulled back, patting Victor's shoulder. He could feel Kurt's presence behind him and looked over to see the taller man looking on at them. "So," Emery said, turning back to Victor. "Is it off to Mexico, then? Going to sit on that beach of yours at long last?"

  Victor looked down at the money for a long, reflective moment. Then his face became a bit serious and he spoke a little quieter. "Maybe for a vacation."

  Emery glanced at Kurt before looking back to him. "Not to live?"

  "Nah. My Spanish's gotten pretty rusty anyway," Victor dismissed, narrowing an eye and giving him a slanted smile. "Besides…I've got a perfectly good pad in Whitchurch that needs fixing up."

  Emery grinned.

  He looked over as he felt Kurt's hand on his elbow. "Can I see you a moment?"

  Emery glanced to Victor, who gestured him to go on, and nodded.

  He followed Kurt a ways off, just along the sidewalk a few feet from the car that Georgie and Victor were lingering around and out of immediate earshot. Emery obediently went along, interested in the opportunity to ask questions. Kurt hadn't said anything about the nature of the letter he'd received from his family and Emery secretly hoped that he intended to share. They came to a stop facing one another and looking out at the parked car. "It's going to feel a little odd without them," Emery mused aloud. "I've spent weeks with these people at arm's reach…I wouldn't have made it if not for them."

  Kurt nodded. "It's unlikely that this will be the last we see of them."

  "Surely not," Emery agreed. He looked up at Kurt and basked in the pangs of the sweet relief that came with the knowledge that they were together again. "Oh darling…I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't found you."

  Kurt was quiet for a moment, staring at him intently. "Thank you."

  "For what?"

  "For refusing to let me go."

  Emery felt slightly teary-eyed and cleared his throat, embarrassed. "You know I'm much too stubborn to do that."

  "I dearly need your stubbornness in my life."

  Emery swayed in placed, looking down. "About the letter…" he began carefully. "I won't pry. But I simply have to know one thing…did it help you?"

  Kurt looked out across the street and nodded. "You can read it for yourself."

  "I don't need to do that—it doesn't involve me."

  "It's a family matter," Kurt replied. "Meaning it explicitly involves you."

  Emery felt his heart swell.

  Kurt straightened up, his face getting serious as he looked away. "Which brings me to what I mean to discuss."

  Emery waited for a long moment, watching as Kurt seemed to struggle with his words for a long stretch of awkward silence. "Which is…?" he prompted.

  Kurt swallowed. "Forgive me, this is…more difficult than I imagined it."

  Emery canted his head inquisitively.

  Kurt forced out a breath and steadied himself, tucking his hands back into his pockets. "I lied to you."

  "Lied to me? About what?"

  He suddenly looked terribly uncomfortable. "When…you asked me what I'd been doing in a jeweler's shop the day I was abducted, I told you I was looking to buy a watch, but that wasn't true."

  "Oh," Emery said. He couldn't fathom why this should warrant such a nervous confession. "Alright."

  Kurt met his eyes, then reached deeper into a pocket, slowly drawing out his hand. When he opened it between them, Emery found himself staring at a pair of silver rings in his lover's palm. "…I was after these."

  Emery blinked repeatedly and looked back to Kurt's face.

  Kurt didn't look up at him, eyes on his hand. "When I said…that I couldn't live without you, that's what I meant. I do not live without you. I did not live before you. You are wholly what my life lacked up unto meeting you…the light in the world that I could not, or would not, see. I know that I've required some repairs. I know that being with me isn't as easy as you like to claim it is. But I love you desperately, irreversibly, freely, and happily. My heart is yours. My body, my soul, my loyalty, and my trust are yours. I want you to have no doubts. No questions. I want no avenue with you to be unexplored, no gesture left unmade to declare my devotion."

  Emery's brain stalled momentarily, trying to work out what he was hearing. "Kurt, are you…" he took a step back, furrowing his brow. "Are you proposing to me?"

  Kurt lowered his hand slightly, looking down again and seeming charmingly sheepish. "I know it seems foolish. I suppose I just…well I sort of fell in love with the idea of seeing your ring on my hand and…seeing mine on yours. Of what we have being as cemented as possible. But…I understand if it seems like a waste of time to you. I know that I can't marry. I'm dead. If we were to even try and do this proper, there would be plenty of unkind faces coming to look for Kurt Gabler."

  Emery stared at the rings for a long moment. He didn't even know how to articulate how this made him feel. It would take him days to explain all of his thoughts and they'd probably freeze to death out here before he was through, so he took the quickest shortcut he could find. "Yeah. Maybe," he agreed. Then he smiled warmly. "But nobody's looking for Kurt Fletcher."

  Kurt quickly looked up. His face was shocked, then it melted into something so touched it was akin to heartbreak. "…You would give me your name?"

  Emery gazed back at him lovingly, then shrugged. "The Fletchers are a good bunch. I know you'd do us proud."

  Kurt reached out, taking Emery's face and kissing him ardently. Emery couldn't keep the tears at bay, and had to stop the kiss, laughing at himself for the ridiculousness of it. Kurt smiled and wiped at his cheeks with gentle strokes
. Emery didn't think he'd ever been happier his whole life through.

  Minutes later, the car was loaded up. Emery and Kurt stood side by side, followed by Victor, who was watching Georgie close up the car. After that she came to stand in front of the three of them, looking composed and confident as always. "Well, I suppose I'm off, gentlemen."

  Emery nodded. "Georgie, before you go, there's something I want to give you. In the boot there's a bag I want you to—"

  Georgie held up her hand. "I already know what you're going to say, but I respectfully decline, Mr. Fletcher."

  Emery glanced at Kurt and Victor. "Come on then, you've done a spectacular bloody job and it's earned you a bit of compensation. I want you to have it. I want to know that you're taken care of."

  "And while I appreciate the sentiment, you've already given me more than you'll ever know." She looked back down the street, sighing with satisfaction. "There are a great many people that money can help. It's more than enough for me to be assured they'll get it. Besides, I don't need a hand out," she remarked, raising her head. "I've already got another job."

  Emery blinked in surprise. "You do?"

  "Naturally. It seems that a certain Irishman is quite keen on letting me in on his newly acquired operation."

  "McDermott?" Victor asked gruffly. "You're shitting me."

  Georgie nodded. "He's of a mind to rebuild."

  "So he's taking over Hennessey's gang, then," Emery surmised.

  "Indeed he is. Quite the aggressive fellow, that one. His first order of business is tracking down the Russians who've been buying off of the Dutchman. After that, he'll be targeting the Bratva in its entirety." Her gaze hardened for a moment. "I'll be damned if I'm going to pass up the opportunity to be a part of that."