Visiting hours are from two to four, every Tuesday, Friday and Sunday of the year. Holiday exemptions available upon request.
Gerard had called at 3:47a.m. on Monday morning. At 5:21p.m. the same Monday he was set $200,000 dollars for bail, and promptly thrust back into jail until such time as bail would be posted.
There was a chip, about a millimeter long, in the plexiglass that separated Mikey from the dangerous felons at the California State Prison. He stared at it, half-formed wonderings of how someone had managed to chip "shatter-proof" glass.
A buzzer sounded. He started.
Men in bright orange started shuffling by, some with bowed heads, hands folded; others swaggering, pants sagging, chin up defiantly. Only one, however, was being escorted by a guard. He was the only one with shoulder length crimson hair.
Mikey's eyes followed Gerard's slow, fluid movements as he shuffled alongside a beefy black guard, who had him by the arm. His ankles were still hobbled, his hands still at his waist. His head bobbled, greasy hair in his face.
They drew even with Mikey's booth, and Mikey frowned when Gerard didn't even look up. "Down, princess," the guard growled, shoving Gerard down into the gray metal chair opposite Mikey and the glass. He made to move away.
"Uh uh, you forgot something," Mikey heard Gerard drawl to the guard, waving one bound hand back and forth, "Unhook me, Tex."
Mikey felt a trill of mortification shoot straight through his groin and down into his legs at Gerard's tone; it was caustic. He swallowed as he watched the guard return, unchain one of Gerard's hands, and turn away again.
And with that, Gerard finally turned and faced Mikey fully, for the first time. Mikey sucked in a breath; Gerard had a bloody gash across his forehead, partially obscured by his hair. Gerard grinned, showing his teeth. He grabbed the telephone on his side, and spoke into it:
"What's shakin', bacon?"
Mikey picked up his own receiver, put it to his ear, and suddenly realized that he had nothing to say.
"Gerard," he croaked.
"Mikey," Gerard replied flippantly.
And Mikey couldn't even speak. Something about seeing Gerard, his big brother, in an orange prison uniform, in chains, with a shit-eating grin playing about his mouth, made his head lurch.
"Gerard," he managed finally, swallowing, "What...what the fuck is going on?"
Gerard's eyes were over-bright, but his grin just grew wider. He looked mad.
"I killed three people, Mikey."
"But...but you can't!" Mikey spluttered, the words he'd been turning around in his head finally coming to light, "You're...you're Gerard!"
"I...can't?" Gerard deadpanned, grin slipping, eyes darkening, "But...I did, Mikey. They're not getting any fucking deader."
And then he smiled widest of all, blissful, transported, exultant.
"You didn't!" Mikey nearly wailed, death-gripping the phone, pleading, "You can't have Gerard. It's you! You're... Why would you?"
Gerard didn't speak. Instead, he worked his jaw, almost like he was chewing. Then, he spat something out, sending it pinging into the plastic glass.
Mikey peered at it. His stomach heaved. He gagged.
It was a human tooth. A molar, by the look of it. It was still bloody.
Gerard hugged the phone between his shoulder and ear, using his only free hand to scoop up the tooth. He examined it.
"This is my tooth, Mikey," he said, with an almost detached interest, "My cellmate decided I deserved a welcome present and pulled it for me."
He cranked his jaw wide open, tongue out. Mikey could see the hole where the tooth should fit in the back. It was a bloody stump.
"Gerard-" he began, sounding sick-
"Bandit won't start to lose her teeth until she's around six," Gerard cut across him with mild interest, like he was discussing a minor tidbit of not particularly scintillating news, "Odd, isn't it? I might not be there to be her tooth fairy."
"But, you didn't do it," Mikey tried again, but Gerard cut across him again, muttering-
"In the middle of a gunfight, in the center of a restaurant..." he paused, lapsed into thoughtful silence, "Y'know, I actually don't remember the rest of the words? Fucking crazy. I wrote the song, and I can't remember shit. Isn't that weird?"
Mikey stared helplessly at his brother, who was continuing to examine his tooth. Didn't he get it?
"Gerard, you're being fucking charged with murder!" Mikey cried exasperatedly, "Aren't you at all worried they'll find you, guilty?"
"Nah," Gerard said, squinting at the tooth, "Because, I am guilty, Mikey. I killed those men. All three of them. And you wanna hear the craziest part?"
Mikey gave a weird twitch, half between a nod and a shake. Gerard wasn't even looking at him.
"The only thing I'm ever gonna be sorry about is that I won't get to be her tooth fairy."
And suddenly, he'd dropped the tooth on the counter, hung up the phone and hauled himself to his feet. He was gone.
Sorry for another short chapter! I'm going to start writing longer ones soon, I promise! Hope you enjoyed this one enough to leave a review or a rating, pretty please? They make me happy. :)