Chapter 1: Chris Kriegman
May 12th, 2001, 12:46PM
A/N: A word on this story before we begin. It was 5 rather than 6 in my numbered Restoration Series, an ambitious project begun in December 2016 to replace no fewer than 8 deleted fanfictions on Zero Day from the same user. Like all the rest, it took hours of work to recall and recover enough of the plot and the details to say I could accurately try to rewrite it.
Chris stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. He had come in here and laid down on his back an hour ago, and since then, he had barely moved. It was a little difficult to move lately. You had to have a goal, direction, motives. You had to be connected to everything. Chris wasn't. He was completely out of it right now. All he could do was sit and think.
It was strange to have to really make yourself get up and do anything, to have to deliberately and consciously do so many things that you normally did automatically. Chris couldn't seem to do anything normally. It was impossible for "normal" anything to have a place in his life right now. Nothing was working right. Everything was out of sync. He would have to go through the motions of the day, ignoring the press outside his house, wanting an interview with the gunman's cousin.
The gunman's cousin.
That was what he had been reduced to. That was all people thought of him as now. The cousin where they had gotten the guns from- never mind the fact that they had stolen the guns from him. Nevermind the fact that they had robbed him, stolen property that Chris had paid for with his own money. It didn't matter. People just didn't care. The general public, the press, the families whose daughters were now dead or crippled by Chris' weapons- no one cared that Chris Kriegman was a victim in this himself, that Andre and Cal had wronged him too. It just didn't matter to people.
There were still a few people standing by him, but most of his friends hadn't come to visit him. They hadn't called, either. All of a sudden Chris was a man not many people wanted to talk to. Jayme had stopped by, but he had also been there with them when they had been shooting the guns. August 21st, 2000. It was hard to believe it was only nine months ago. It felt like a whole other life.
Chris had discovered the theft on May 1st, around ten in the morning. He had been unable to believe it had happened at first, that Andre and Calvin had abused his trust so blatantly. But they'd done it. The note they left, the fact that nobody but them even knew where the key to the gun safe was kept… they'd stolen his weapons. They'd robbed him. Who could have known that Andre and Calvin would have stolen the guns to commit indiscriminate murder? Who could have imagined that Andre and Calvin would kill so mercilessly, so sadistically, before killing themselves?
But then, who could have seen it coming that any of this would ever happen at all?
Chris' cousin had been dead for almost two weeks. Andre was dead along with Calvin and fourteen other people. Only the twelve other people had been killed- murdered by his cousin and his cousin's best friend.
It had been a mistake to tell those two that he owned any guns. A mistake to take them shooting. A mistake to ever even let them inside his house.
He shouldn't have let them see where he kept the keys and the guns. They were hidden for a reason, and he hadn't even thought twice or once before showing them because Andre was his cousin and he had known Calvin for years.
It had been a terrible, terrible mistake. He should have kept Andre out of that gun safe, out of this house, out of his life.
Chris regretted ever having known Andre or Calvin. He was sorry he had met either of them. They had inflicted such damage, shattered so many lives, and then taken their own, and they had done it without hesitation. They were gone now and the pain they had inflicted would linger for years, maybe even decades. The lives they had shattered and destroyed would be felt and remembered as long as anyone who had been there, anyone who knew someone who had been there, was still alive.
Maybe Andre and Calvin had known that would happen.
Maybe they had planned for that, prepared for it, looked forward to it- knowing it would happen, though they knew they would never see it themselves.
Maybe this destruction, all this pain and chaos, was exactly what Andre and Calvin had wanted.
It was possible that the two murderers had been wrong. Time healed all wounds, they said, and people tended to forget things was time went on. Yet, then again, Chris didn't ever see how time would heal these wounds. This was not something you would just forget. It was hardly a normal event, something easily weaved into the fabric of life.
Chris had been interviewed by everybody from the local police to the FBI, and more agents and officers than he could even keep track of had come and searched his house and car. They'd cleared Chris of all wrongdoing, but it had taken some time. Chris knew he was lucky that he hadn't lost his job because of his relation to one of the shooters. His boss trusted Chris enough that he hadn't blamed him either, and had simply put Chris on paid leave and told him to stay in touch and come back when he was able to.
Tomorrow, they were going to hold a funeral for Andre. It was being kept extremely quiet, occurring late in the day, and everything possible had been done to keep it well hidden from the press. No one but close relatives knew. Close relatives and the Gabriels. The Gabriel and Kriegman families were left with no choice but to be in constant contact, as they were faced with the same problems and had suffered the same loss.
Andre's parents had asked that Chris be there today. He really didn't want to but he knew he didn't have a choice. He really didn't want to see that… person's funeral, for obvious reasons; he would go for his aunt and uncle. He didn't want Johanne and Gerhard to be alone on that day. Chris didn't want to get up, despite knowing he needed to. He didn't want to get up or leave his house. Chris let out a breath and stood, grabbing his keys.
Chris didn't know if Calvin's family would be going to Andre's funeral. He hadn't asked and nobody had mentioned that. If they showed, Chris wouldn't object. If they didn't, well, he was find with that, too. He just didn't have it in him to have especially strong feelings toward the Gabriels, for or against.
As Chris got to his front door, he steeled himself, knowing what he was about to encounter outside. He paused a moment, then unlocked the door and opened it. He stepped outside, turned around, pulled the door shut and locked it. Chris stood upright and walked straight to his car, not looking left or right. He had already seen the press waiting for him before he'd stepped outside. And he could not stop them from shouting their questions as he headed for his car.
"Mr. Kriegman! Mr. Kriegman, what do you have to say about the ongoing federal investigation?"
"Mr. Kriegman, how does it feel being a close relative of one of the shooters?"
"Did the shooters give any hints of their intentions to you?"
"When will your cousin's parents make a statement to the press?"
And that was just a few pieces of the barrage. Chris answered none of the questions, resolutely ignoring the microphones, the cameras, the flashes going off here and there. Chris swallowed, hands shaking as he unlocked his car door.
He got in and shut the door immediately, cutting off much of the sound. Chris didn't hate the press, not really. He knew they were just doing a job. Some of them had even told him so. But them calling it their job didn't make it right. Nor did it mean that Chris had to like it, or them.
He started the car, driving off, honking at the press moving close to his car. Chris had to honk a couple times to get them all out of his way, and he got out of the neighborhood in a hurry once he reached the end of the street. From there he took several random turns, driving faster than he normally would have, working through his carefully-devised routine for losing any reporters that might be tailing him. He drove aimlessly after that, forgetting for a time where he was supposed to be going.
Chris wished he could forget more than that.
A/N: 3-6-2017 is the date I first uploaded this chapter. Below is the full extent of the original text I was able to recover for Chapter 1 of this story:
12:46PM. Chris stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom.**It was a little difficult to move lately. All he could do was sit and think.**He would have to force himself to go through the motions of the day, ignoring the press outside of his house, wanting an interview with the**gunman's cousin.**Gunman's cousin. That was what he had been reduced to. That's all people thought of him now. The cousin where they had gotten the guns**from —never mind the**fact that they had stolen the guns from him. There were still a few people**standing by him**, but most of his friends hadn't come to**visit him. Jayme had stopped by, but he had also been**there with them when they had**been shooting the**guns.
Who could have known that Andre and Calvin would have stolen the guns to ...
Andre was dead along with Calvin and twelve other people.
Only the twelve other people had been killed—murdered by his cousin and**his cousin's best friend.
He shouldn't have let them see where he kept the keys and the guns.
They were hidden for a reason, and he hadn't even thought before showing them because Andre was his cousin and he had known Calvin for**years.
Chris let out a breath and stood, grabbing his keys.
He didn't know if Calvin's family would be going to Andre's funeral or not
that he hadn't lost his job because of his relation to one of the shooters.
Yet, then again, Chris didn't see how time would ever heal these ...
He didn't really want to but he knew he didn't have a choice.
he really didn't want to see that… person's funeral for obvious reasons, he would go there for his aunt and uncle. ... He didn't want Johanne and Gerhard to be alone on that day.
Chris swallowed, hands shaking as he unlocked his car door.
He started the car, driving off, honking at the press moving close to his car. Chris ...