Good Man

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever, ever...
Ever...



No one spoke to each other after the funeral.

Everyone had left the parlor and went straight to Billie Joe's house where the reception was to be held. The limos dropped off the immediate family and bandmates of the deceased musician, so there were no qualms for anyone else when it came to parking their cars along the guitarist's long driveway and even on his lawn.

Friends, family and associates alike gathered together to remember the man who lived a very eventful forty years doing what he loved with those he loved; going through photo albums the raven-haired frontman kept, playing video footage and listening to music while eating finger foods and drinking coffee or tea.

Despite the somber reason for this particular shindig, most found the ability to smile, laugh and joke about things they remembered of Mike.

"Remember that one time when we played that show in Birmingham before Kerplunk! came out and Mike kept getting hit on by that fat chick with the small boobs?" came a jovial snort from Tre as he held a cup of lukewarm coffee in his right hand.

Billie Joe nodded with a laugh. "And Mike was so trashed he made out with her anyway."

Tre stared off momentarily and smiled a lazy smile. "Shit, what was her name, again? It's on the tip of my tongue."

Shrugging, the older man smirked but ended up looking away, over Tre's shoulder, in the direction of where Caroline was sitting on the living room couch; with Estelle clinging to her side while Chloe sat in her lap and Mikey ran around her feet.

All the while, she kept staring at the ground while Gerard sat on her other side, saying something consoling in her ear which seemed to be loosening her up a bit.

Caroline's delicate hands held a cup of tea that was most likely cold because everyone in eyesight of her would contest not having seen her take one sip. Not to mention the plate of finger foods she had helped herself to -- out of a sense of obligation to Adrienne and Billie Joe who were having the reception -- were still untouched by her own hands, but not that of Mikey's who was most happy to munch on the cheese and crackers his mommy didn't seem to want.

With a mix between a hop, a skip and a jump, Mikey made a beeline toward his godfather with blue eyes that went on forever and a pudgy belly sticking out of his little, white dress shirt that was now untucked.

"Uncoo Biwwie," he muttered, holding his hands out and wrapping them around Billie Joe's legs. Tilting his face up and grinning while cracker crumbs fell from the corners of his lips, he oddly sniffed the man's kneecap.

"Whatcha doin', punk?" Billie Joe smiled, crouching down to the boy's level.

"I ate mommy's cwackas an' cheese."

"You ate her crackers and cheese?" he repeated the child's statement as if it was some astonishing information.

Mikey nodded. "I wike cheese." Flashing his little pearly whites at his godfather and looking more like his deceased father, the soon-to-be three-year-old hugged onto Billie Joe's leg once more but because of how Billie Joe was crouched down, the boy ended up laying his head down in his Uncle Billie's lap as if ready to take a nap. "Up," was all he muttered.

"You want up?"

"Yeah," Mikey replied. "Up, up, up."

"Up, up, up?" Billie Joe mimicked the blonde boy as he lifted him up into his arms and tickled his belly.

Tre smirked and reached forward to ruffle up Mikey's hair but the boy looked away and simply rested his head on Billie Joe's shoulder.

"Hey kiddo, I'm more your uncle than Uncle Billie, here. I married your mommy's sister," Tre pretended to be hurt. And, in actuality, he kinda was. "I'm sad now. Can I get a hug please?"

Mikey turned his head, his left cheek resting heavily on Billie Joe's chest and he stared at his Uncle Tre. After a few stalled moments, Mikey reached his right arm out and lightly tapped Tre's hand with pudgy fingers. Tre smiled and leaned in to give his nephew a half hug and a kiss on the temple.

"You're a very good boy, you know that, MJ?" Tre commented.

"Uh-huh," was Mikey's only response.

Looking over at the clock on the mantel above the fireplace, Billie Joe suddenly frowned. "Tre..."

The drummer looked his friend in the face, distracted from studying the mini version of their dead friend.

"Huh?"

"Take Mikey. I gotta go back to the...the, uh..." he trailed, mouthing the words 'funeral parlor' to Tre so the boy didn't have to hear.

The 39-year-old drummer was temporarily confused as to why his friend had to leave, but then remembered. "Oh, the urn..."

"Yeah, Stan said the...uh...process...it would be finished by now. I gotta get the urn. I-I-I said I'd be there to get it for Caroline. I mean, it's her husband. After what happened this morning during the service, I feel like she's gonna want it ASAP."

Tre agreed. "Yeah, probably."

Passing his godson off to his actual uncle, Billie Joe straightened out his shirt. "This is not my best day ever."

"I'll second that," replied the blue-eyed man who was struggling to keep a squirming Mikey still so that he didn't spill the coffee in his hands.

With a rueful smile, Billie Joe cut his way through the throng of guests and fellow mourners in order to get to his wife and let her know where he was going and what he was going to do. When she nodded, kissed him goodbye and told him to be safe, he grabbed his car keys and praised Jesus that he had pulled his car out of the garage earlier that morning and parked on the lawn so that there would be no problem getting out later.

Running a hand down his face and blinking back some tears he felt he could shed without people around to watch him now, Billie Joe slipped into the driver's seat of his Ford Fairlane and didn't even bother to start the car right away. Instead, he slumped forward and rested his lips on the surface of the steering wheel with his hands wrapped around it as well on either side of his face.

He tried to steady his breaths but they came out labored and shaky. Thoughts and memories -- both happy and sad -- whipped violently around his mind like a tornado in the heart of Kansas, and all he wanted to do was climb into the backseat and ball himself up tightly in the fetal position.

Unfortunately, he couldn't bring himself to move from the position he was currently in because his mind was locked on thinking about one of the greatest fires in his life that had been snuffed out.

Mike was a flame that should've burned for a great long time.

Sucking in air through his teeth, Billie Joe slumped even more against the steering wheel and let out a hard, painful sob that had been tearing at his very core for the longest time.

With the windows rolled up and no one around, he was at liberty to wail his heart out like a wounded child. A wounded child who lost his best friend of thirty years...forever.



By four in the evening, Tre and Giselle had driven Caroline home with her children. By four-thirty, Caroline was standing in her kitchen, making a sippy cup full of chocolate milk for both Mikey and Chloe.

Distracted by her thoughts, she couldn't even remember ever giving her kids their cups.

The next thing she remembered doing was sitting with her kids to watch the Doodlebops DVD, 'Rock & Bop.' Mikey was standing almost directly in front of the big screen TV, dancing from side to side while clapping his hands to the song being played by the three Doodlebops.

"Mikey...don't stand too close to the TV, honey," Caroline said listlessly.

The little boy turned to look at his mother briefly and took a small step back as Chloe stood beside him and mimicked her big brother, but added a little bit of a jumping in place to her dance style.

Caroline smirked a little but it faded as soon as it appeared.

Can you see them happy and dancing, Mike? Will they remember you?

Sitting there, dazing in and out as the DVD wore on, Caroline finally snapped back to reality when Mikey was at her side, nudging her.

"Mommy, the doorbell..."

Blinking a few times, the widowed woman turned her head toward the entrance into the living room that lead into the front hall.

"Thank you, honey," she replied, placing her hand gently on her son's cheek. Pulling herself up begrudgingly, Caroline slowly walked out of the living room and stood behind the front door. When she pulled it open, Billie Joe was standing on the other side. "Hi," she muttered weakly.

"Hi."

"How come you rang the doorbell? You usually just walk right in."

Billie Joe shrugged. "Just didn't seem appropriate. Thought you'd like some privacy and walking right in would be more like barging today."

Caroline shook her head. "You'd never be barging to me."

Smiling slightly, the dark-haired man stepped inside with a box in his hands as Caroline shut the door behind him.

Eyeing the box curiously, she gestured to it with her hand. "What is that?"

Billie Joe swallowed back a lump in his throat and looked to the side to peer into the living room where Mikey was holding onto his little sister's hands and both kids were dancing and jumping together. The guitarist smiled.

"Billie? What is that?" Caroline repeated, getting wary.

Looking down and slowly up at Caroline, Billie Joe bit his bottom lip. "It's..." he trailed, taking a breath. "It's Mike."

Her lips parting and a sharp intake of breath echoing from her throat and off the front hall walls, Caroline's heart seemed to break all over again and her facial expression said as much to Billie Joe. He watched as she grabbed for the box and sank to the tiled floor. He simply let her take it as his hands began to fiddle about aimlessly in front of him.

It had taken him a few hours to leave the funeral home's parking lot after he'd picked up Mike's urn. He had sat in his car with the urn safely tucked away in the box, strapped to the passenger's seat with the seatbelt; talking to Mike, trying to picture the man actually sitting beside him instead of a jar full of his ashes within a box.

Now he was looking down at Mike's widow, opening the black box that was enclosed around what would contain him after death.

Caroline's fingers began to shake as she unlatched the box and lifted open the lid, and it felt like her heart stopped as she looked inside and reached her hands out to take hold of the urn.

Her hands touched the coolness of the urn that was dark green marble. She studied it and just couldn't come to terms with Mike's ashes being inside it.

"I just saw him this morning, sleeping forever," she whispered, staring at the urn's lid. "Does it open?"

"What?"

"The urn. Does it open? I wanna see what's left of my husband."

Billie Joe stuttered. "I...I dunno. I would assume so. A lot of people, um, scatter ashes so the lid would have to be removable..."

Chewing on her bottom lip, Caroline held the urn tightly as she very carefully twisted the lid off and peered inside. And there, looking like nothing more than a jar of gray, dusty sand, was Mike's ashes; all that was left of his body.

Seeing her panic attack happen before it arrived, Billie Joe sank down to his knees and pulled the urn away and resealed it, then placed it softly into the box.

However, no matter how prepared he was for Caroline to have a panic attack, he wasn't prepared for the scream of anguish and loss that billowed past her lips. She threw her body back and writhed slightly before balling up into a fetal position as sobs wracked her body like a jackhammer.

Billie Joe's green eyes darted nervously about her shuddering form as Mikey and Chloe came teetering into the front hall, wondering why their mommy had screamed and why she was crying.

Turning his head to the two little children, Billie Joe nodded to his godson. "Mikey, go back into the living room and watch TV with Chloe, okay?"

"Why mommy sad? Why she scweamin'?"

"Mommy misses daddy a lot, Mikey. Just...just go watch TV," Billie Joe tried to get out, be even he, himself, found his heart constricting with the need to cry as well.

Out the corner of his eye, the 40-year-old man saw the two children withdraw, with Mikey taking his sister by the hand. By their leave, Billie Joe stretched forward on the floor and laid beside Caroline on the floor, reaching his arms around her and literally sliding her against his body. Holding her close he let her sobs echo into his ears as they reverberated through her body and into his; almost like feeling the rumble of a washing machine churning all the way from another room.

"I want my husband," she cried. "I want my Michael to come back."

"He's here, Caroline. He's in your heart. He's always gonna be with you. With your kids. With all of us."

Billie Joe's words only made her cry harder and he didn't know what else to do beside hold her and let her cry. And if it weren't for the sad reason why he was holding her so closely on the front hall floor, he would've felt awkward when a knock at the door came and Mikey came bounding out from the living room to open it.

"Hiya," Billie Joe heard the boy mutter.

Looking up slightly, Billie Joe found Gerard Way standing at the door with his brother, also named Mikey; both carrying flowers that were from the funeral parlor.

Green Day's frontman suddenly remembered Gerard had volunteered his brother and himself to retrieve all the flowers and bring them to the Pritchard residence after the reception at Billie Joe's house.

But right now, Gerard was open mouthed and concerned as he set the group of flowers in his hands down onto the ground and sank to his knees to place one of his now free hands on Caroline's shoulder.

"Oh, sugar," he muttered affectionately. "You're gonna be okay..."

"Why is everyone saying that?" she mumbled into Billie Joe's chest.

"'Cause you will be, in time," Mikey Way replied, shutting the front door behind him and smiling down at Mikey Pritchard, who was looking up at him. "Hey," he said to the boy.

"Hey," little MJ repeated. "Mommysad'causeshemissesdaddy," he added as if the whole sentence was one word.

"I know," Mikey Way nodded, then set down the flowers in his hands. "Uh...how about you show me what you and your sister are watching in the living room, huh? I hear some cool music."

"Dooda-bops," MJ smiled, but only a little, because he sensed his mom's grief.

As both Mikeys exited the front hall, Gerard looked at Billie Joe and both shared a mutual expression of sympathy, empathy and concern for Caroline. Slowly, the younger man sank down to lay on the other side of the distraught woman he considered to be a very good friend and who needed all the comfort she could get right now.

Resting his right arm on her left while Billie Joe had his entire left arm around Caroline's waist, Gerard pressed his forehead against the back of her neck. "We're here for you, Caroline."

Pressing his lips to the top of her head, the older but shorter man agreed. "We aren't going anywhere."



Several hours later, Billie Joe was standing at the foot of the staircase with the Brothers Way. He was in thought mode when he looked up at them, drumming his fingers rhythmically along the wooden banister.

"Should one of us stay here tonight? After what we walked in on earlier, I'm not sure she should be left alone right now," Gerard remarked.

Billie Joe nodded. "It might be best."

"I'll stay if you want. I don't have anyone waiting for me at home and you've done so much today anyway. You should be at home with Adrienne and your boys right now," My Chemical Romance's frontman suggested, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

"Gimme your keys then," Mikey muttered. "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning or whenever." The younger Way looked at Billie Joe. "We drove together here and I'll need a ride back to the hotel."

"I'll give you a ride," Billie Joe offered.

"Okay," Mikey nodded. "That works, too."

"Alright, well...if you need anything or if anything happens with Care, make sure you call me or Tre. We all live blocks from each other. We'll be here at the drop of a hat."

"Will do," Gerard replied.

As Billie Joe and Mikey left, Gerard closed the door and lingered a bit before walking toward the staircase and looking up in the direction of the second floor before even bothering to ascend the steps.

His hand dragging along the banister, he reached the final stair and turned left, peering into the darkness of the upper hallway, and to the very end where the door to the master bedroom beckoned.

Frowning, he walked the distance until he reached said door and opened it. Looking in, there lay Caroline asleep with Mike's urn on the bedside table nearest to her and both her children in her bed with her; all tucked in under the soft, lumpy comforter.

Smiling ruefully, Gerard's green eyes focused momentarily on Mike's dark green marble urn. And as obsessed as he tended to be with death, this was just one of those times where it was disturbing and not interesting.

He had always liked Mike, and thought of him as a friend as well, and for the blue-eyed bassist to be gone from this world forever, was just...unsettling.

Closing the bedroom door, he turned around and slipped down the hall to descend the stairs and make up the couch for a place to sleep tonight.



The following morning, Gerard awoke with a start when he heard the sound of a blender buzzing in the kitchen.

Nearly falling off the couch from the noise jump-starting his day without his permission, the 35-year-old man clamored to his feet, ran a hand down his sleepy face, while trying to get a grip on where he was. Then, upon remembering he'd stayed the night on Caroline's couch, he widened his eyes and blinked slowly to shoo away the sleep.

Heading toward the blender, Gerard stepped into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks, unsure of what to do or say.

There, standing naked as a jaybird, was Caroline.

"Uh...Care?" he muttered lamely.

Turning her head, she looked at him slightly, but not actually seeing him. "Making a smoothie. I wanted a smoothie," she mumbled.

"With no clothes?"

"Got warm."

"Where are your kids?"

"Woke up and put them in their own beds."

Gerard frowned and stepped closer, forcing his eyes to remain above her shoulders. "You should put some clothes on, Care."

"It's the 16th of August. In California. If anything I should stay naked."

"But August in the Bay area is cold in the morning because of the fog, though, right?"

"Don't talk down to me, Gee. I live in this goddamn place and have for the last six years. I know its weather better than you and know what I can handle."

"Okay, well, I'm not as concerned about you catching a cold during the summer as I am that you just shouldn't be naked right now."

Turning around fully now, Caroline glared at her friend. "Am I offensive to you? Don't you like seeing a woman's body or are you a fucking fag?"

"Caroline, I'm just...that's not what I..." he trailed, not knowing how to respond. "It's got nothing to do with you being offensive. It's just that you're vulnerable right now and someone could easily take advantage of you."

"Is that someone you?" Caroline advanced, eyeing him.

Holding his hands up to stop her, Gerard unbuttoned his dress shirt, thanking the Gods he at least had a plain white T-shirt underneath and held it out for Caroline. "Please, Care. Just put something on right now."

Snatching the dress shirt, Caroline slipped into it delicately as if it barely touched her skin, but at least she was covered and now Gerard didn't have to worry much about where he might accidentally look.

"So, uh...how are you doing this morning?" he asked when she returned to her smoothie.

"What a stupid question to ask someone who's husband was shot and killed four days ago and was spent the night with his ashes on the table next to her bed," Caroline remarked, taking a sip of her smoothie with both hands cupping the glass.

"So, not good, I see. Well, it'll get easier---and I'm not saying anytime soon, so please don't beat me up for saying that. Months, maybe in a year...the pain won't be as strong."

"You have no way of knowing how I'll feel."

"True, but I know you. You're a strong person."

"I was a strong person. Mike made me strong," she growled. "Now, if you're done with your pep talk, I'd like to go back to my bed and not leave it for a while."

Nodding, Gerard watched Caroline's figure leave the kitchen as he looked toward the kitchen window looking out at the backyard, toward a rose bush.



"You got me a rose bush for my birthday? Are you smoking crack? What happened to jewelry or music?" Caroline teased, a smile expanding on her lips.

She had her small hands holding on tightly to Mike's T-shirt as she leaned into his chest and looked up at him with gleeful hazel eyes. He was looking down at her and grinning right back at her.

"First, who said this was your only gift? Second, you are an incredibly picky bitch," he remarked, garnering a jovial scoff from the woman before him as she shoved him a little. "Third...third, a rose bush will grow. It'll get bigger and it's roots will go deeper. Every year it'll expand. It'll become fuller and more beautiful every year. Just like you."

Placing a kiss on the tip of her nose, he pulled back to watch her face go from that of contentment to mild offense.

"Are you trying to say I'm gonna expand and get fat every year?"

Mike laughed. "No, but even if you did, hey...you know what they say. Extra cushion for the pushin'," he joked.

Caroline laughed as well and wrapped her arms around Mike's lean waist. "So, what other presents did you get me?"

"Ashes."

"Huh?" she replied, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." Mike spoke, his voice fading as his skin turned gray and began to flake.

Caroline screamed as she awoke from her nightmare by Gerard who was sitting on the edge of her empty bed. She searched his eyes for some answers to her questions and fears, but settled for whimpering endlessly.

"I saw him in my dreams. And then he was gone. He was ashes...all gone..."

Gerard frowned and brushed her hair off her face. Leaning down, he kissed her forehead. "It's okay..."

"No, it never will be..."

"Yes, it will. Just give it time."

"He's never coming home, Gerard. He's never coming home..." she repeated over and over. "Never coming home..."