Keep Running [part 1]

[silentdescant]

Keep Running

[ index] - [part 1] - [ part 2] - [ part 3] - [ art] - [ mix]

No one’s expecting it when Frank walks in. Gerard tries hard to wipe the shock off his face. It’s not like they thought he was dead-they’d hoped he wasn’t, but it had been early enough to still have hope-but they certainly didn’t think he’d just come waltzing back.

He’s not exactly waltzing, though. He’s gripping the doorframe tightly with one hand, and his other is curled protectively around his stomach. There’s blood smeared around his throat and matted in his hair, and bruises around his hooded eyes.

Gerard snaps out of his daze and goes to him. “Hey,” he says simply. He wants to ask if Frank’s okay-he obviously isn’t-but he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and make Frank angry, or hurt him even more. It’s no secret that Frank’s a proud man; they’ve all gotten used to skirting around issues like this.

Frank slowly raises his eyes to meet Gerard’s. He opens his mouth.

“Frank?”

“Help me,” he whispers. Frank takes a halting step into the building and almost immediately falls to his knees. Gerard catches him around the waist and slows his fall, lowering them both to the ground. Frank smells like blood and vomit, and like the sharp tang of electricity.

“Mikey? Ray?” Gerard calls. He tries to keep his voice steady and calm, for Frank’s sake, but Mikey and Ray both appear at his side instantly, like they’d been waiting.

Ray scoops Frank up and carries him into the main room while Mikey closes and locks the door. He and Gerard then gather all the medical supplies they have and go to Frank, where he’s spread out on the floor. Ray kneels beside him, looking stricken.

“How did you get here, Frankie?” he asks softly.

“Please don’t tell me you walked,” Mikey adds under his breath.

“You took the fuckin’ car,” Frank mumbles. Gerard bends over him and starts peeling away the tattered remains of his shirt and vest. There’s a wound in his stomach that he’s still clutching desperately, but that seems to be the worst of his injuries.

“We were gonna come back for you,” Gerard says. It’s important that Frank hears that, and hears it from him. “We just needed to resupply. We were going to come after you tonight.”

“‘Cause you’re fuckin’ idiots,” Frank says. Gerard tries to pry his hand away from his stomach and Frank winces and groans. He freezes suddenly and stares up at them with wide eyes. “They could’ve followed me.”

Gerard glances up at the others. “Go out there. Five mile radius, take the car.”

“But you-”

Gerard catches Frank’s eye. He looks relieved. Gerard nods at Mikey. “I can handle this. Go out and patrol, and lead them away from here if you need to.”

Mikey rises smoothly. Ray follows his lead, a bit more reluctantly. “I’ll turn the radio on for you,” Mikey says.

“We’ll be fine,” Ray adds. “Take care of him.”

They’re out the door seconds later, guns strapped to their thighs and helmets hanging from their arms. Gerard hears the car roar to life and speed away; he waits for the dust to settle before he meets Frank’s eyes again. He asks what happened with a simple raise of his eyebrow.

“Gee, please-”

“Let me see.” Gerard takes Frank’s hand and this time Frank doesn’t resist. Gerard exposes the gash on Frank’s stomach-a knife wound, or at least made by something sharp-and holds Frank still when he cries out and shakes. The wound is bleeding freely.

“What happened, Frank?” he asks as he swipes away the blood with a cloth. Frank writhes under him, tears streaming from his eyes.

“I can’t, I can’t, please don’t make me, please,” Frank moans. His arms flail and he grabs at the floor, Gerard’s knee, Mikey’s discarded jacket.

“Hold still, Frankie, just for a minute. You’ll be okay, I promise.”

Gerard works quickly, disinfecting the wound and ripping away the rest of Frank’s shirt to give him more room. He takes out the needle and sutures and has to steady himself with a deep breath. It has to be done, and he tells himself to get the fuck over his stupid fear. Frank needs this.

“Ready?”

“Fuck,” Frank groans. “No. Fuck, Gee, please-”

“I need to do this, Frank,” Gerard insists. “Come on, you can hold still for me, come on. Hold on to me if you need to.”

Frank grabs Gerard’s thigh, just above his knee, and Gerard can feel his nails dig in even through his jeans. He waits until Frank grits his teeth and turns his head away before pushing the needle through the edges of Frank’s skin. He moves mechanically; it hurts him to watch, even knowing that it’s the right thing to do, and he has to force himself to keep his eyes on his work. If Frank can do this without screaming, Gerard can too.

Frank does babble pleading nonsense the entire time, though; he only quiets when Gerard tapes gauze over the wound and wraps a bandage all the way around Frank’s torso. He looks even more exhausted than when he first stumbled into the hideout.

“They-there’s a-message,” Frank gasps. “Wanted me-tell you-”

Gerard bends low over him and takes Frank’s face in his hands. “What is it, Frankie?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Frank says. “Just wanted me to tell you-what happened. I don’t know. I don’t know. Wanted to kill me. I don’t know.”

“They must not have wanted to kill you if you’re supposed to deliver a message,” Gerard replies soothingly. “What did they say to you, Frank? Tell me what they told you.”

“They didn’t,” Frank moans. “I don’t know why. They just said. You need to know. I don’t know why, Gee, please, it hurt so much, I don’t want to.”

Gerard sits back on his heels for a moment. He leaves his hands on Frank’s face, because Frank’s pushing into them and gripping his arms and it seems more of an effort to take them away, at this point. “They wanted me to know what they did to you?” he asks. “What did they do to you, Frank?”

“There was-rooms, lots of rooms, I got lost, I don't know where-”

“It's okay, Frank,” Gerard interjects quickly. “You're here now, okay, just tell me...”

“They got me when we split up.” Frank takes a deep, shuddering breath and his hands fall away from Gerard's arms. Gerard releases Frank as well and moves to pet his hair instead. Frank flinches away with a quick jerk of his head, which makes Gerard frown and comb his fingers slowly over Frank's scalp, feeling for bumps or cuts.

“Where does it hurt, Frank? Do you have a concussion?”

Frank bats his hands away. “No, just. Don't. I don't want that.” He laces his fingers with Gerard's, instead. Gerard stares down at their joined hands, still frowning.

“Frank?” he asks slowly.

“The dracs took me away from you,” Frank murmurs. He's also looking at their hands, Gerard notices. He can't decipher Frank's expression through the bruises and the pain, though. Frank takes another deep breath, steadier this time, and continues. “I heard you drive away.”

“Frankie-”

“You were gonna come back,” Frank finishes. “I know. I know, but...” He reaches up with his free hand and wipes fresh tears from his eyes. “I lost it. I freaked. They grabbed me and-I don't know. I don't know, I was just on the ground, and I couldn't move, and you weren't there anymore, and-”

Gerard rolls down to lie beside him and takes Frank's hand in both of his. He did the right thing, leaving Frank. They didn't have the manpower or the gun-power to save Frank or even themselves; they had to leave. They had to. He'd done the right thing to protect his gang, but it didn't sit right with Gerard when he'd done it, and it still doesn't now. He squeezes Frank's hand. “I'm sorry, Frank.”

“I passed out,” Frank replies in a low voice. “I woke up in the room. There was-a bed. He was there. He was in the room.”

Gerard's blood runs cold. “Korse? Korse was there?” Frank nods his head and shuts his eyes tight. Gerard squeezes his hand again. “What did he do, Frankie? What did he say?”

“He didn't say anything,” Frank whispers. “Not at first.”

“How long were you there?”

“I don't know.” Frank opens his eyes again and stares at Gerard. “I don't know, I don't know.” He keeps repeating it until Gerard shushes him. He doesn't want Frank to start crying again, not now that he seems to have himself under control.

“What did he do?” Gerard asks carefully.

“I don't know-”

“You do know, Frank.”

“I don't know-”

“Frank, tell me,” Gerard says. He's mostly just impatient, but it comes out as anger in his voice and Frank shrinks away, his fingers going lax in Gerard's hand. Gerard pets the back of his knuckles a little and Frank wrenches his hand away.

“I don't know! I don't know! Stop!”

“Stop what, Frank? Tell me!”

“He took my mask!” Frank shouts. He backs away from Gerard, squirming on the bloodstained and dusty floor, and Gerard can see how much it hurts him, but he doesn't stop. He twists onto his side and pushes himself to his knees, but his arms won't hold him and he goes down hard, clutching his stomach. He tears at the edges of the bandage, frantic, and Gerard recognizes the mindless panic in Frank's eyes. He's going to rip out his stitches without even realizing it.

Gerard lunges at Frank and traps his hands, forcing them out and away, where he can't hurt himself. Frank's shouting at him, screaming at him to stop, that he doesn't know, nonsense, Gerard can't even understand him anymore. He holds Frank's wrists tight, pinning him to the floor and using his knee to keep Frank's hips still.

“Frank!” Gerard shouts through the noise. “Look at me!”

The panic subsides, replaced by fiery anger. Frank exhales harshly, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring, and relaxes. It's sudden; the tension disappears from his body and his hands spread open, loose in Gerard's grasp. Even his face goes lax; his eyebrows lift and his forehead smoothes out, and his mouth opens in a soundless gasp.

“You're okay, Frankie, it's just me, it's just me,” Gerard murmurs. He eases his hold on Frank and ducks his head to brush his lips across Frank's cheek as he talks. “It's okay now, you're here with me. You're safe now. You're okay. Don't hurt yourself, Frankie, please just relax. It's just me.”

“He took off my mask,” Frank whispers. “I saw his face. He smiled. The whole time, he smiled.”

“Are you gonna fight if I let you up?”

Frank shakes his head minutely. Gerard waits a moment, then rolls off him. True to his word, Frank doesn't struggle. He lies there on the ground, hands stretched up above his head, breathing heavily. Gerard sits up.

“He touched my hair. He kept-he kept petting my hair and-he pulled my hair-I thought-it hurt-I thought he'd cut it.”

Gerard gives Frank a tentative smile. “It's 'cause he doesn't have any of his own. I'm sure he's fascinated.”

Frank starts to laugh. It takes a while for Gerard to realize that it's not amusement, it's hysteria. Frank's back arches off the ground, his shoulders shake and press into the floor, but his hands remain loose and open, resting above his head. His wrists look pressed down, though. His feet are firmly planted on the floor as well, knees raised and spread, and that's when Gerard finally notices that Frank's favorite pink belt is missing.

Frank's still laughing, spread out on the floor. A faint red stain is starting to seep through the bandage on his stomach. Gerard heart skips a few beats. He rocks forward onto his hands and knees and hunches over Frank, trying to get his attention without startling him.

“Frank. Frank,” he says quietly. “Frankie, look at me. Frank!”

“What?!” Frank shouts. He's suddenly not laughing anymore. He stares up at Gerard with that fire back in his eyes, and Gerard's almost glad to see it.

Gerard swallows. “Frank, did he touch you?”

“They all touched me, Gerard,” Frank grinds out, eyes flashing.

“Don't lie about this, Frankie,” Gerard says quietly.

“He took my belt,” Frank says, after a moment.

“I know.”

“He tied my hands with it.”

“What happened then?”

Frank breaks eye contact. “He didn't even take off my shoes,” he murmurs, like that's the most indecent thing Korse had done.

Now that Gerard knows what to look for, the signs are obvious. Barely-there bruises around Frank's wrists and throat, bruises that will probably deepen and darken by tomorrow, and the broken zipper on his jeans.

“He talked about you,” Frank whispers. “He told me you left me. But I already knew.”

“I didn't leave you, Frankie, I was coming back for you, I swear,” Gerard replied pleadingly.

“He said I deserved it.”

“Frank-”

“He said I needed it. I thought I shouldn't have fought. I thought I had to be punished. I thought I was an example.”

“Frank, you're not-”

“No, I'm not,” Frank agrees. There's a pained look in his eyes, now, when he glances fleetingly up at Gerard. “He meant you.”

A chill runs down Gerard's spine. He sits back on his heels, shaking his head.

“He did this to you,” Frank says.

“He didn't.” He didn't, it's true, but Gerard knows what Frank means. “He never touched me.”

“He did this to you,” Frank says again. When he catches Gerard's eye again, he holds it. Gerard can't break the contact. Frank's voice breaks on his next words. “He hurt me for you.”

“No.” It's a weak protest. “He didn't know.”

“He knows.”

“He can't know.”

“Do you love me?” Frank's voice is soft and throaty, and his eyes are watery again.

“Of course I love you, Frank, don't be stupid,” Gerard growls in frustration.

“He knows. He knows you love me best.”

Gerard crumples to the ground, hunched over his knees until his forehead touches the floor. “I'm sorry,” he gasps into the darkness. “I'm sorry, Frankie, I'm sorry, he shouldn't have known. I'm so sorry.”

“I had to get out. He cut me. I slept for a while. I woke up and he was gone. Everyone was gone. I got lost. I don't know how I got out. I don't know where I was. I found the road. I came here. I had to find you,” Frank says in a monotone.

The sound of the trans-am pulling up outside startles Gerard, but Frank doesn't seem to notice. Gerard hurries to his feet, scrubbing at his eyes, trying to relieve the burn of tears. He hears Mikey and Ray slamming the car doors, hears the crunch of their boots in the dirt. He greets them at the door.

Mikey scans his face critically but makes no comment. Ray looks beyond Gerard, into the room. “Frank?” he asks.

“He'll be okay,” Gerard replies shortly. “Did you find anyone?”

“A few dracs out by the zone border, but they were heading the opposite direction. We just watched from a distance,” Mikey explains. “Nothing else in our radius.”

Gerard wonders how Korse got into their zone without them or Dr. Death knowing. They must be learning how to move secretly. He distantly recognizes that this will only make things harder in the future, but he can't bring himself to plan ahead or even care right now. Mikey and Ray brush past him and go to Frank, both of them sliding to their knees a careful distance away.

“Hey, Frankie,” Mikey says.

“You okay, man?” Ray asks.

“Gee stitched me up,” Frank replies in a flat voice. “They cut me to keep me from going anywhere, but that didn’t stop me.”

“Fucking badass, man,” Mikey says appreciatively.

“Did you walk all the way here? Where did they take you?”

Frank’s eyes flick over to Gerard’s, briefly. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “I’m just glad I found my way here.”

Gerard shakes his head to clear it and taps Mikey on the shoulder. “We should move, it’s not safe here. Start loading the car; me and Ray are gonna find a new hideout.”

“What about me?” Frank asks. He raises his eyes to Gerard again, but he won’t meet Gerard’s gaze.

“Rest,” Gerard says simply. He ignores Frank’s huff of protest and follows Ray to the table where they’ve spread out the zone maps. He forces himself to focus when Ray starts pointing out the areas where they saw the dracs retreating, and the places Dr. D has sent them in the past.

“Our best bet is probably around here,” Ray says, gesturing. “We’re getting close to Battery City, but-”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. We’ll go where we have to go,” Gerard replies.

Ray leans in close and cuts his eyes back to Frank, who’s idly fingering the bandage around his stomach. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Gerard gives Ray a hard look. “He’ll be fine,” he says lightly. “He’s Frank.”

“Is he up for an eight hour drive?”

“Does he have a choice?”

Ray sighs his defeat and goes outside to help Mikey load up the car. They’re running low on supplies; it’s probably for the best that they’re heading towards the city. As dangerous as it is, they’ll at least have a better chance of crossing paths with other zonerunners.

Gerard rests his ass against the table, pushing the maps out of the way so he can lean back. “Did you know?” he calls to Frank. “About me?”

Frank shakes his head.

“How did he know?”

“So it’s true?” Frank asks. He turns his head to face Gerard. “How long?”

Gerard makes a face. “It doesn’t matter, it’s not like-”

“If I’m gonna be the fucking superhero’s girlfriend, I think I deserve to know. It matters to me.”

“I never wanted anyone to get hurt because of me,” Gerard murmurs. “It’s not fair.”

“Fucking right it’s not,” Frank says vehemently. He coughs. “I break the law just as much as you. They should be hurting me for me.”

Gerard chokes on a surprised laugh. “Motherfucker.”

“Is that why you never told me?”

“One of the reasons,” Gerard admits. He pushes off from the table and stands over Frank. “We’re gonna be driving all night; can you handle it?”

“Whatever,” Frank replies.

Gerard turns around and gathers up the maps. His hands hover over his mask. It’s his identity, his persona, something he’s developed over time, since they first started running. They’ll need to get Frank a new one. His heart breaks a little at the thought.

“I’m sorry about your mask,” he says.

“Gee?” He pauses but doesn’t wait for Gerard to face him again. “Don’t tell them, okay?”

“I wouldn’t,” Gerard replies shortly. He takes the maps out to the car without looking down at Frank again.

Mikey slams the trunk closed as Gerard walks out to them. He gives Gerard a calculating look, but again, he doesn’t say anything. Gerard knows he won’t, not until they’re alone. Ray’s leaning against the passenger door, where he usually sits.

“You want me to drive?” he asks carefully. “You can sit in the back with Frank, this time.”

“Mikey can sit with him.”

“Gee, let me drive,” Ray insists.

“You could use the rest too, y’know,” Mikey adds, nodding at him. “You’ve been running hot all day.”

Gerard thinks of Frank’s matted hair spread across his thigh, his own hand on Frank’s shoulder. Frank’s feet sticking out the window so he can stretch out. That thought leads to others: the blood in Frank’s hair, the bruises around his throat. The missing pink belt. Gerard’s hands clench.

“I should drive,” he says again.

“He doesn’t want me to sit with him, Gerard,” Mikey whispers.

Ray wordlessly moves around the car and stands by the driver’s seat. Mikey gets into the passenger seat and raises his eyebrows defiantly.

Gerard heads back to the hideout with a sigh. He finds Frank pushed halfway up on his hands, breathing harshly through clenched teeth. Gerard rushes to his side and supports Frank’s back.

“What are you doing?” he asks in alarm.

“I need to-”

“You shouldn’t be moving,” Gerard says firmly.

Frank slumps against Gerard’s hand. “I walked all the way here,” he says softly. “I should be able to… get up, at least.”

“Frankie, you were pumped full of adrenaline and god knows what else. You’re exhausted and hurt and-and you shouldn’t make it worse, okay? Please?”

Frank grasps Gerard’s free hand tightly. “They didn’t give me anything.”

“You can’t be sure-”

“They didn’t give me their fucking happy pills, alright? Do I look happy to you? I’m not fucking high, don’t treat me like that.”

“I’m not treating you like you’re high,” Gerard protests.

“No, that’s right, you’re treating me like a fucking victim.”

“Frank, don’t do this.” Gerard slips out from under Frank and lets him slide to the floor.

“They ruined me, didn’t they?” Frank asks, staring straight up at the ceiling. “You can’t even look at me without thinking of him, admit it.”

Gerard forces himself to look. He tries to push the bruises on Frank’s face out of his mind and just see Frank, the same way he’s always been. It almost works. “I’m not the one afraid to look,” he whispers.

Frank takes a breath. It sounds like he’s about to cry again, but Frank doesn’t let it show on his face.

“Are you afraid?” he asks.

“No,” Frank breathes. Gerard can tell he’s lying, or at least denying the truth. “They used me. He used me, and it worked, and. I just-I hate that I hurt you.”

Gerard doesn’t reply. He slides his hand under Frank’s arm and lifts him into a sitting position. It takes a little more work to get him standing; Frank sags against him, arm wrapped tight around Gerard’s neck, and they walk slowly out to the car. Gerard gets in first and pulls Frank with him as he slides across the bench seat. When Frank has his feet on the bench, Gerard leans across him to pull the driver’s seat back into place. He squeezes Frank’s knee as he sits back down.

Frank raises his eyebrows a little when Ray starts the car and swings it out onto the road.

“Mikey said I needed to rest,” Gerard explains in a low voice. He can’t quite resist brushing a lock of hair off Frank’s forehead.

“Don’t,” Frank says automatically. He reaches up and takes Gerard’s hand. “I mean, not yet.”

Frank touches his lips to Gerard’s knuckles. Gerard opens his mouth in surprise, but then Frank laces their fingers together and rests them on his chest. He closes his eyes and breathes out a sigh.

Gerard closes his eyes as well and tilts his head back against the seat. The wind from the open front windows blows his hair off his face. Not yet isn’t never, and he’s used to waiting.

***

Frank heals pretty quickly, thanks to Gerard’s insistence that he rest and take it easy. Of course, after several days of resting and taking it easy, Frank starts to bristle at them. That progresses into fights-all verbal, because none of them want to engage Frank physically, especially while he’s injured-and then Gerard gives up and grudgingly allows Frank out with them again.

“Thank fuck,” Frank mutters under his breath as they pack up the car. “We’ve been hiding out for too goddamn long.”

“We haven’t been hiding out,” Gerard snipes back, “we’ve been scouting and resupplying-”

“You might have been, but I haven’t been allowed out of this stupid safehouse.” Frank kicks at the leg of the table, then slams his fist down on it when it doesn’t topple.

“Frank-”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Frank growls. “I gotta get the fuck out of here. This is driving me fucking crazy.”

Mikey comes inside, panting, and tells them about the broadcast he just heard on the radio. “Zone four,” he says. “They’re raiding every safehouse along the border and sweeping in, all at once. We gotta move, guys.”

“You almost done in there?” Ray shouts from outside. Gerard hears him slam the car doors shut.

“Mikey, with me. Frank, get in the car,” Gerard orders. Frank glares at him. “Now, Frank, we don’t have time for this.”

Frank grabs the shit off the tabletop and makes his way outside, still moving far slower than Gerard likes. It’s not safe to have Frank fighting with them again, not yet. Mikey snaps his fingers in front of Gerard’s face to get his attention and they both buckle down, removing every trace of themselves from the abandoned diner.

When they get outside, arms full of ray guns and ammo, Ray leans over from the passenger seat to start the car. Mikey slides into the backseat and Gerard dumps everything he’s holding onto Mikey’s lap before diving into the front and throwing the car into gear.

“They’ll catch up with us,” Ray warns. “Dr. D couldn’t even keep up with the tip line calls, they were coming through so quickly.”

“They must know we’re here. How could they know? We haven’t even done anything since Frank-”

“Shut up, Mikey,” Gerard growls. “It doesn’t matter how they know. We just gotta get out of here.”

After a moment of quiet, Frank leans forward and touches Gerard’s arm. “It does matter, Gee,” he says under his breath. “We gotta figure that shit out, or they’re gonna keep finding us.”

Gerard trains his eyes on the rearview, scanning the horizon for any sign of the dracs. Their SUVs kick up plumes of dust out in these zones, which is one of the many reasons Gerard likes to stay away from the city. They’ll head out, he decides. Across the fucking country, if they have to. Anywhere to keep his boys safe.

***

They drive the rest of the day and well into the night, only stopping twice to refill the gas tank with the reserves they keep in the trunk. Gerard eventually gives up driving because he can’t keep his eyes open. They play musical chairs; Ray slides over into the driver’s seat, Mikey hops out and gets in the passenger seat, and Gerard walks around the car to join Frank in the back. Frank leans on him once he sits down.

“You doin’ okay?” Gerard asks, low enough that Ray and Mikey can’t hear.

“I’m fine,” Frank answers. He sighs and wiggles around for a minute, making himself comfortable using Gerard’s shoulder as a pillow. Then he turns his head and Gerard feels warm, damp air against his ear.

“They knew we were in zone four today,” Frank whispers. “They knew we were passing the fill station when we got split up. They knew about you.”

“Frank-”

“This is a problem, okay?” Frank says vehemently. “They know things that-that hurt us.”

Gerard closes his eyes and exhales slowly. “I don’t know how they knew.”

“Well, you gotta fucking figure it out, Gerard. I can’t do this, not if they’re always one step ahead. Might as well fucking give up now-”

“Don’t say that. Don’t you dare fucking say that, Frank Iero,” Gerard says, grabbing a handful of Frank’s shirt and gripping it hard.

“Figure it out,” Frank says again. He puts his hand over Gerard’s, slotting his fingers in the dips between Gerard’s knuckles. He squeezes once and Gerard lets go.

“Lay down, Frankie,” Gerard murmurs. “You need the rest.”

“I’m not the one falling asleep at the wheel,” Frank replies. He reaches up to Gerard’s shoulder and pushes him down a little. “It’s your turn to rest.”

Frank’s thighs are hard and tense as bowstrings when Gerard finally lays his head down on them. He wants to touch Frank’s knee, rub his legs through his jeans, make him calm down somehow, but the logical part of Gerard’s mind knows that’s a fucking awful idea. He resettles and drops a kiss to Frank’s leg instead, just above the knee.

Frank’s hand moves hesitantly to Gerard’s hair. He strokes his fingers through it a few times, combing out the easy tangles, and then slides his hand down to Gerard’s shoulder. After a few minutes, his legs relax beneath Gerard’s head, and Gerard finally closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

***

They make it through the night without incident, but as soon as the sun rises, they see the plumes of dust that warn them of the dracs’ impending arrival. Gerard leans forward, between the two front seats, and directs Ray to the nearest copse of dead trees and bushes. Ray pulls the car in and they all jump out, grabbing gear from the trunk at record speed. Mikey and Ray, each with their helmets on, start charging the guns and loading the ammo. Gerard pulls Frank aside.

“You up to this?” he asks quietly. “It’s okay to say no.” Gerard wishes Frank would say no, but Frank never, ever will.

“Yeah, I’m fucking ready.”

“Fan out,” Gerard calls over his shoulder. “Take cover where you can. We’ll be ready for them when they get here.”

Ten minutes later, silence falls over them. The dracs make their final approach on foot; it’s easier for them to sneak up on zonerunners that way, without their distinctive, noisy vehicles signaling their arrival.

Frank stands up from his hiding spot behind a bush. He takes the first shot; a blast from his ray gun hits one of the dracs square in the back of the head and he falls to the ground. The others turn to Frank and draw their weapons.

Frank’s got nowhere to run and they all know it. Gerard sees red and charges, body-slamming one of the dracs and shooting at another. They hit the dirt. The noise picks up as Mikey and Ray join the gunfight and the remaining dracs return fire. Gerard tries to keep his eye on Frank, but he’s having so much trouble avoiding the blasts that he loses sight of him.

“Frank!” he shouts.

“There!” Mikey answers, pointing.

Gerard whips around and sees Frank and a draculoid locked in a fistfight. Frank’s bright green gun is lying several feet away, out of reach. Gerard runs toward them, his arm outstretched and his finger on the trigger.

“Frank, move!” Gerard calls. Frank ducks; Gerard shoots. The drac goes down and Frank’s left standing, panting, blood soaking through the front of his shirt where Gerard guesses his stitches have ripped.

It’s over a few minutes later. They make their way back to the car, out of breath and jittery with adrenaline, and collapse back into their seats. Gerard stays in the back with Frank and Ray takes the wheel without question.

“Just… drive,” Gerard tells him wearily. It doesn’t matter where. The cameras and zone sweepers will pick up the dead dracs in under an hour; they just need to be far away from here when it happens.

***

They keep moving, cycling through Ray, Mikey, and Gerard taking their turns in the driver’s seat, until the car runs out of gas and the reserve tank in the back runs dry. They pull off to the side of the road and all except Frank climb out and gather around the car.

“We can try to put a call in to Dr. D,” Mikey says, already reaching through the open window for the radio. “We’re close enough to the city, maybe there’s someone around.”

“We’re sitting ducks out here,” Gerard mutters. There’s nothing they can do about it, either.

“We’re really not that far from the city,” Ray adds. “We’ve been going around, for the most part. Maybe I could head in and pick up enough gas to get us to the next supply drop.”

“Not by yourself,” Frank calls from inside the car.

Gerard leans his ass against the hood. The metal’s hot under him. “Frank’s right,” he says. “You can’t go alone.”

“This isn’t a good idea,” Mikey says. “We can’t leave them like this, out in the middle of the desert.”

“Who says it’d be-”

“Of course it’s gonna be me and Ray,” Mikey snaps. “You’re not gonna leave Frank with either of us, and he certainly can’t come with us-”

“Hey!” Frank protests. He sticks his head out the window.

“Shut up. You aren’t healed yet and we all know it. Stop fucking pretending.”

Gerard raises his hands and everyone falls silent. He sighs. “See if you can contact Dr. Death, or maybe Cherri. They’re usually within city limits. If there’s no response by noon, you and Ray start heading into town. Frank and I will stay with the car unless we hear from you through the transmissions.”

“And if someone comes, send word and we’ll figure out a rendezvous,” Ray adds. “I don’t want you guys waiting out here for us to get back if you’ve got the fuel to find cover.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, start packing up. We’ll wait until noon.”

***

Frank pillows his chin on his crossed arms as he leans out the window to watch Ray and Mikey walk away. Gerard crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the car beside him.

“This is a bad fucking idea,” Frank mutters.

“Tell me about it.”

Frank moves to the front passenger seat. Gerard spends several minutes checking, double-checking, and triple-checking their supplies, then loads up a few guns just in case before sliding into the driver’s seat.

Frank turns to him. “Where do you think we are?”

“Hard to tell,” Gerard admits. “Somewhere along the zone two border, I think. It’ll probably take ‘em… a day, day and a half, to get to the outskirts of Battery City. Then again for them to get back, or longer, since they’ll be carrying stuff.”

They’re quiet for a moment, both watching the horizon. Mikey and Ray have completely disappeared into the distance.

“You think they’ll be able find us again?” Frank asks quietly.

“Ray’s a good navigator,” Gerard answers with a confidence he doesn’t quite feel. “He’ll get them back.”

They lapse back into silence. The radio’s on, but turned down low; all that’s coming across the airwaves is static.

“I should have told them,” Frank says after nearly an hour.

“Told them what?”

“I should have told them what happened to me. They needed to know, before they went out by themselves.”

“They’re armed, Frank-”

“They don’t know, okay?” Frank takes a quick breath. “If they get captured, they’re not going to know, and they’re… they’re gonna…”

“Stop, Frankie,” Gerard whispers. “They’ll protect each other.”

Frank licks his lips several times, like he’s about to say something else. When Gerard notices Frank twisting his hands in his lap, he realizes it’s more of a compulsion.

“Frankie.” Gerard reaches over and covers Frank’s hands with his own, squeezing until Frank stills. “You don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to.”

“But you think I should.”

“I don’t think that. I think you know what’s best for you.”

“Do you think…” Frank turns his hand and latches onto Gerard’s. “Do you think it would make me stop feeling like this?”

Gerard feels himself frown, even though he tries to keep his expression neutral. “No,” he says honestly.

“I feel… afraid… every time I think of it,” Frank admits. “I’ve never felt afraid before. I mean. Not like this. I’ve been scared for my life, when we fight. Scared for your life, and Mikey’s and Ray’s, but… this is different. I’m just…”

“It’s okay,” Gerard says. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“You should know. You need to know that I’m fucking-fucking terrified all the time, okay?”

“Frankie-”

“That’s what I felt. That’s what it was, when I was in that fucking hotel. Fucking terror, okay, and I can’t fucking shake it.”

It’s on the tip of Gerard’s tongue to ask what happened-to ask for details-but he can’t do that to Frank, and he’s honestly not sure if he could stomach the details anyway. He settles for holding Frank’s hand until Frank gets himself under control. Frank takes a few deep breaths and meets Gerard’s eyes.

“When we saw the dracs, all I could think about was what they did to me. I wanted to rip their heads off with my bare hands,” Frank says, and his fingers tighten around Gerard’s, like he’s demonstrating, “and fucking spit on their rotting bodies, but.”

“But?”

“But all I could feel was that fear.”

Gerard pulls his hand out of Frank’s grasp to drape his arm over Frank’s shoulders. “You did good, though. You didn’t freeze up, you didn’t flip out; you did good.”

“I didn’t.”

“You killed them, Frankie. You fought-”

“I didn’t wait. I couldn’t stop myself, I just stood up and pulled the damn trigger, and Ray almost got his head fucking blown off because I broke too early,” Frank explains quietly.

Gerard doesn’t remember that. He doesn’t really remember Ray in the fight at all. He bites the inside of his lip until he tastes blood. “But we all got out of it alive, so… you did good enough.”

Frank pops the latch on the door and tumbles out. “I gotta-I need air. I need to walk.”

Gerard sighs and lets him go. He glances around and sees nothing on the horizon, but he calls after Frank anyway. “Take your gun. Don’t go far.”

He means to give Frank some privacy-Frank obviously wants to be alone, or at least away from Gerard-but as he scans the desert around them, Frank keeps drawing his gaze. Gerard watches out of the corner of his eye as Frank walks away from the car, following Mikey and Ray’s bootprints. Frank goes out a good distance, far enough that they’d probably have to shout to hear each other, and drops to his knees.

Gerard tenses in his seat and automatically reaches for the door handle. Frank’s clutching his stomach, hunched over and facing away from the car, and his body convulses several times as he retches into the sand. When he finishes, Frank sits back on his heels and turns his face up to the sky to scream.

Gerard looks away when the sound reaches him. It breaks his heart to hear the frustration and rage in Frank’s voice and know there’s nothing he can do to fix it.

Frank stays out for a long time. Gerard keeps his focus on the static coming through the car’s speakers, but he glances over to Frank every few minutes. Well over an hour later, he sees Frank push himself to his feet and make his way back to the car.

Frank opens the door, slides into the seat, and slams the door closed again. Gerard wordlessly hands him a bottle of water, which Frank drinks greedily. He then holds the empty plastic bottle in his lap, and his hands move to cover his stomach.

“Are you bleeding?” Gerard asks quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“Let me check the stitches-”

“I can handle it,” Frank snaps.

“Okay.” They sit together in silence for a few minutes, and then Gerard says, “I’m gonna try to catch up on some sleep. You’ll keep watch?”

“Of course,” Frank replies.

Gerard gets out of the car and moves to the back seat. He dutifully closes his eyes and ignores the sounds Frank makes when he lifts up his shirt to rewrap his bandage.

***

Frank’s taking his turn in the backseat when Gerard spots Mikey and Ray on the horizon. He gets out of the car and charges his gun, just in case, but he doesn’t wake Frank yet. As they get closer, Gerard breathes a sigh of relief. They’re each carrying a can of gas, and they look tired but unhurt.

Mikey drops his can and throws his arm around Gerard. “Thought you might not be here,” he murmurs.

“Thought you might not come back,” Gerard answers, kissing Mikey’s hair.

“Is Frank in the car?” Ray asks.

“Yeah,” Gerard says. He pulls Ray into a hug as well. “He’s sleeping right now. How was…”

“We had to go into the city to find someone willing to give us supplies,” Ray tells him. “There’s not a whole lot of news flying around. I think we probably knew more than they did.”

“They did tell us there’s a safehouse not too far from here. Northeast; we were pretty much heading that way already. We brought back enough fuel to get us there, at least,” Mikey adds.

“How about you guys?”

“Dead quiet,” Gerard says. “We took shifts; neither of us saw anything.” He gives them a grin that feels natural on his face, his first real smile in several days. “Let’s fill ‘er up and get the fuck out of here.”

Gerard takes Mikey’s gas can and lets Mikey run ahead to wake Frank up. When he and Ray get to the car, Frank is clinging tight to Mikey and smiling with relief. Everything feels a little easier, a little safer, with the rest of their gang back with them.

Mikey flops into the backseat with Frank and passes out almost instantly. Gerard insists that Ray do the same, and then he goes through the motions of refilling the car and stowing the cans in the trunk. By the time Gerard slides into the driver’s seat, Ray’s leaning against the window, snoring.

“They said there’s a safehouse not far from here,” he tells Frank. “You ready to go?”

Frank meets his eyes in the rearview mirror and gives Gerard a wry half-smile. “I’ve been ready since we stopped. Start driving.”

***

They run headlong into a company of dracs only a few hours later. Gerard doesn’t see the white SUVs until he’s practically on top of them; he slams on the brakes and kicks up a shitload of dust and almost certainly gives away their position.

“Fuck!”

“Wake up, wake up,” Frank shouts, punching Mikey’s shoulder and kicking Ray’s seat all in one motion. “Get us the fuck out of here, Gee.”

Gerard makes a hard right and puts the pedal to the metal, hoping against hope that they can skirt around the SUVs before they’re noticed.

“They’re gonna fucking chase us,” Frank cries. Gerard hears the thread of panic in his voice and grits his teeth.

Sure enough, the three cars on the edge of the group speed into reverse and try to surround the trans-am.

“Guys!” Gerard shouts. “Guns, now!”

They have no experience fighting like this, and Gerard doesn’t even want to think about what kind of armor or blast-repellant coating those fancy SUVs have. Mikey, Ray, and Frank each grab their guns and start firing out the open windows.

A couple of the SUVs’ tires blow, but otherwise, their ammo does nothing.

“This isn’t gonna work!” Mikey cries. “We can’t get to ‘em!”

Gerard slams on the brakes again and the SUVs follow suit. Everything stops. Dust begins to settle around them.

“You guys gotta be ready,” Gerard says quietly. “They’re gonna get out and come to us. You gotta be ready.” He waits for a nod from each of them. “I’m gonna go straight through, okay? If we’re fast enough, we should be able to get straight through.”

“I don’t know if we can get enough speed to outrun them, Gee,” Ray murmurs.

“It’s a fucking muscle car,” Gerard snaps. “She can take it.”

The white SUVs closest to them shut off their engines. Doors open and Gerard hears the scuttling of feet on the opposite sides of the cars.

“Wait until they come towards us,” Gerard whispers.

“Jesus,” Frank says. “Fuck.”

“Frankie-”

“I got it.”

Amazingly, they mostly stick to the plan. The dracs show themselves around the cars, weapons drawn, and start to sneak closer to the trans-am. Gerard twists his hands around the bottom of the steering wheel. The first shot hits the taillight and Frank whips around, blasting without waiting to aim.

Gerard forces the car into motion and they speed through the blockade of SUVs. He brushes by two dracs along the way and lets out a gleeful laugh when they hit the ground and don’t get up. The rest of the dracs race back to their cars and then the chase is on, but Gerard thinks they have enough of a head start to lose the tail by nightfall.

They make it to the safehouse around midnight.

It’s an old truck stop, devoid of any life, but there’s a working radio and a basement store room full of canned food and bottled water, so it was probably abandoned intentionally. Gerard guesses the gas pumps still work; they can figure that out tomorrow. They hide the car in the service garage and douse all the lights, then they fan out to each corner of the property, eyes and ears alert for their tail.

A single SUV shows up an hour later. It skids to a halt just out of range and Gerard listens for the familiar sound of draculoid boots on desert ground.

There are three dracs and they walk right into the ambush. Ray takes one out before it even becomes a threat. The other two are on their guard, but they’re not prepared for Frank launching himself at them and bowling them both to the ground.

“Get out, Frank, get out!” Mikey shouts. They can’t get a clear shot with Frank in there.

Ray picks off a second drac like a sniper and it keels over. Frank wrestles with the last one for a moment and finally ends up on top of it, gun trained at its face. He’s about to take the shot when it reaches for its own gun.

Gerard moves on instinct. He aims and shoots without thinking and the drac goes limp beneath Frank.

Frank takes his finger off the trigger and staggers backward. He looks around at Gerard with wild eyes.

“Frank-”

“Don’t talk to me,” Frank snaps. He throws his gun on the ground beside the lifeless draculoid and storms inside the safehouse without a backward glance.

“What’s his problem?” Ray asks in a low voice. He comes over to Gerard and nudges his boot against the drac’s arm. “What happened?”

Gerard holsters his gun and shakes his head. “I took his shot.”

Mikey mumbles something and Gerard hears “fucking idiot” through the monotone. Mikey gives him an annoyed look, like they hadn’t just been fighting for their lives.

Gerard goes to the building and slips inside. Frank’s crouching in the center of the floor, fingers laced through his hair. He pops to his feet when he hears the door close behind Gerard.

“I’m sorry,” Gerard says, before Frank can even open his mouth.

“That one was mine,” Frank replies. “I had him.”

“I know, Frank, I’m sorry. It was instinct. He reached for his gun and I just… fired.”

“I was going to take the shot. I didn’t freeze up.”

“I know.”

“You don’t need to protect me,” Frank says.

“I know,” Gerard answers. He’s already apologized more than once. He watches Frank’s face contort with anger.

“You don’t have to-to fucking save me all the time, Gerard,” Frank spits, stalking across the room.

Gerard stares down at his feet. “I know,” he says.

“I can handle myself.”

“I know.”

“If you know so goddamn well, then why-why the hell do you always fucking do this?” Frank ends on a shout and swings around to shove Gerard in the chest.

Gerard stumbles back a few steps and clenches his fists. It’s not Frank he wants to fight. He takes a few deep breaths and says, very quietly, “I want to hurt them for what they did to you. I want to make them pay.”

Frank’s expression crumples and he shakes his head a little. “Don’t I deserve some revenge too?”

“Oh, Frankie,” Gerard breathes, stepping in to cup his hand around Frank’s cheek. “Of course you do.” When he swipes his thumb over Frank’s downturned lips, Frank closes his eyes.

He lifts his hand and threads his fingers through Gerard’s, gently pulling Gerard’s hand around to his mouth to lay a soft kiss on the heel of his palm. Gerard curls his fingers around Frank’s and Frank mouths at his knuckles, not quite kissing or licking, but dragging his lips over them, and then carefully scraping his teeth along the edges of the scabs.

“Frank,” Gerard whispers. “I love you, Frankie.”

Gerard twists his hand free and slides it up Frank’s throat, tilting his head back and rubbing at the corner of his jaw. Frank follows the motion easily, meeting Gerard’s lips with his teeth and his tongue. The kiss deepens for a brief moment; Frank’s panting through all the spaces they break apart, and his eyes are clenched shut. He makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat that urges Gerard on, but then Frank turns his head roughly to the side and grabs at Gerard’s wrist, yanking it down and away from his face.

He stays pressed up against Gerard, with his cheekbone mashed against Gerard’s mouth, but Gerard can feel the tension in his body. Frank rests his open palm on Gerard’s chest, like he’s about to push him away, but the push never comes. Gerard breathes a quick sigh of relief and settles his hands around the small of Frank’s back, loosely embracing him.

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispers.

“It’s okay. You’re okay now. I love you.” Now that he’s said it once, Gerard wants to slip into random sentences all the time. It feels good. He presses a kiss to Frank’s cheek and says it again. “I love you.”

Frank doesn’t answer-he never does when it’s something like this, something he can’t joke about-but Gerard doesn’t need him to. He just needs Frank to know he’s loved.

***

[ part 2]