Ch. 7- The Repercussions

Beatrice knocked on Frank's door. She had heard of the tragedy and wanted to be sure he was all right. She received nothing but a sniffle in reply, so she opened the door. Frank was sitting on his bed, face tear-streaked, eyes red, nose sniffling and running. Her heart went out to him. She went to him, sat next to him, embraced him.

Frank looked at her sorrowfully, obviously in pain. She kissed him, crying herself, and laid her head on his shoulder. Frank, however, shook her off. "This is why we fought. This is why he died angry at me," he murmured.

"Frank, what are you saying?" Beatrice asked quickly, and he explained about his and Dewey's fight, about the others siding with him, about Frank witnessing his brother's death and knowing that they would never make up. She gasped. "Oh, dear, that's terrible!"

Frank, numb as Lemony was, said slowly, quietly, "I don't think I can keep this up, Beatrice. I think you should probably go." He suddenly realized the irony of the situation, but far from being funny, it depressed him even more.

Beatrice stood, in shock, Lemony's words coming back to her: "Go. Go. You need to leave. Now." She refused to cry; instead, she became angry. "Fine. I'll get my stuff and be out of here by morning. I thought you loved me, Frank. I thought you loved me like I loved you." She stormed out of the room, slamming the door as Dewey had done.

Frank sat down, suddenly going cold. "Dewey was right," he whispered. "Dewey was absolutely right, I'm hurt. And it's her fault." He lay down, falling asleep almost immediately.

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Beatrice was furious. How dare Frank do that to her, the woman who loved him! She threw her few belongings into a bag, a bit more harshly than she expected to. Above her, she could hear the sounds of people arriving for the children's trial. She really didn't care about Dewey, or those children. She just wanted to be out of there.

She sat down and listened to the sounds of the evidence being submitted, saltwater taffy being eaten, and tea being drank. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright. There was yelling. People moving. And, the sound of the two most dreaded people in the world talking to someone who sounded suspiciously like Olaf.

She grabbed the bag, and headed for the stairs. She figured that the elevator would be out of use, if not now, very soon. Beatrice darted up the stairs and into the kitchen, where the stairs came out. She couldn't see, the kitchen steam was so thick. The kitchen was big, so she spent at least a quarter of an hour trying to find her way out.

By that time, the fire had already been set, and people were rushing for the exits. She tripped and fell, easily breaking her ankle by landing on someone's rather pointy shoe. She rolled on the floor in pain, knowing suddenly that there was no way she could get out, that she would die here, in the hotel of the man who had just broken up with her. Bitter irony rose into her mouth and brain, and as the smoke swept through the lobby and began stifling her breathing, all she could think about was her regrets.

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The noise had awoken Frank soon enough for him to get safely out of the hotel through the fire escape. He looked around at the people fleeing the hotel, and realized that he didn't see Beatrice among them. His heart dropped. He still cared about her, and now she was gone.

A boat flew off the roof, but he took barely any notice. He was walking towards the VFD meeting hall, knowing that he wouldn't be accepted there, but still wanting to go. It was a long walk, and once he reached it, he entered out of breath.

What he saw was a curious thing. There was a crying, pregnant Kit, and three crying males around her. There was red eyes all around him, and he could only guess they had heard about his brother. Nobody would look at him, but he could understand that. Kit glared at him through her tears, hurt and shocked, and there was nothing but rage for him in those eyes.

Frank knew what he had to do, and he knew it wouldn't be easy. He sat down next to Kit, Jacques, R., and M., and said, simply, "I'm sorry." Then he rose and walked towards the exit.

Kit stopped him. "Wait," she said. "How- I mean, how did he die?" Frank smiled.

"He died doing what he thought was right. Which is more than I can say about myself." He did indeed leave then, heading for Lemony's house.