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AO3 Blank Slate Stories : Was he... Frank Abagnale : by Kamishawe

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"Sometimes it's easier living the lie.
I'm going to let you fly tonight, Frank.
I'm not even going to try to stop you.
Because I know you'll be back on Monday."

"Yeah. How do you know I'll be back, Carl?"

"Frank, nobody's chasing you."

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Six Years Later

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"Has he called yet?" Carl was worried. No one had seen or heard from Frank since his wife dropped the forger off at the airport Saturday morning. It was now Tuesday…

"Sir, You're going to want to see this." Mr. fox pointed to the sitrep room and the television running a news report. "We tracked him to a flight coming home Sunday evening in the pilot jump seat."

In other news the flight 5643 crash at sea is still under investigation. Pan Am Airways is notifying friends and family of possible survivors...

"Our team is out helping the recovery efforts. They still haven't found him."

Carl just closed his eyes as everything became a buzz of background chatter. He had a phone call to make and a soon to be grieving Mrs. Abagnale to help with her three sons.

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Four Years Later

"My Name is Carl Hanratty. H-a-n-r-a-t-t-y. Han. Ratty. Han-ratty."

~Do you know what this nut is trying to say?~
~No, Should we get the boss?~
~Skull-sama speaks gibberish right?~

"I'm looking for this man, Frank Abagnale." Carl pointed at the picture. "Frank, do you know him? His name is Frank."

Frank had disappeared after the plane crash, presumed dead. Then the forgeries started appearing. The new forger knew too much. There were copycat forgerys only Carl's FBI team knew about. There were counterfeit preventatives that only Frank invented for the Federal Reserves and Private Banks. Only a select few could fool those. The forger rapidly evolved into government documents, identities and art collections. No one even knew they were fakes until people started finding exact twins of the original works.

Call it a gut feeling, Carl knew it was Frank. It baffled him why the man wasn't returning home. What started as a global chase turned into this circus full of goofballs with goons that didn't speak a lick of English, in Russia.

"The Great Immortal Skull-sama is here! They said my biggest fan wanted an autograph!"

There was a goon carrying a 2 year old in a jump suit wearing a motorcycle helmet.

"Cute, Kid. Look, I want to speak to an adult. One that speaks English."

"But Skull-sama speaks well! There's no other here!"

Alright, Alright. I can handle this. Come on Carl, it's just a kid. Point at the picture, then get an actual adult.

"I'm looking for this man. Do you know Frank?"

The kid light up. His eyes sparkled and mouth showing a pearly smile full of teeth. The make-up covered boy even gained a swaying rocking motion to his posture, nodding enthusiastically. The purple binky bobbed with the movement.

"I'm Frank!"

What?

"No, you're not."

"Am too!"

"This Frank is old."

"I am too!"

"Nice kid, where's you mommy and daddy?"

"Who are you? Skull-sama doesn't remember you. Are you a fan?"

Wait, that face… He'd seen three other munchkins with that face, though Frank's kids would never be caught dead dressed like this boy.

"Skull. Son. Who's your daddy?"

The kid was gone like a skittish gazelle screaming, "Senpai!"

"Oh, Frank... here we go again. Red Team, get that kid and Blue Team - find me Frank!"

If nothing else, Frank will come for the kid.

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