Lost Highway Part 3/11
Title: Lost Highway
Author: Zory22
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, eventual Mikey/Alicia
Rating: NC17
Warning: Violence, character death, adult themes, language, implied sex
Disclaimer: I don't own them
Summary: Frank wakes up in the hospital with Dr. Korse after a car accident. The Killjoys know him, but he has no clue who they are or where he is. Can they help him with his memories, or is Fun Ghoul lost forever?
Chapter 1 Chosen
Chapter 2 Empty
Chapter 3 Anneal
Frank's P. O. V.
The car vibrated roughly, as we tore through the desert, making my whole body go numb with the vibrations. The roar of the TransAm wasn't enough to drown out the unbearable silence, silence that was cracking at my mind like a egg shell upon a hard surface. When we'd travelled along the road for a good half hour, I knew I had to break it.
"Um, not that I mind you guys saving me from the burning building and all, but I still don't know who you are." I had to talk loudly to be heard over the roar of the engine, but the silence that followed made me cringe back into my seat. A deep sigh came from the man with the bright red hair.
"This is Kobra Kid and Jet Star," he pointed to each in turn. "And I'm Party Poison. We're the Killjoys. We smoke, we drink, and we're the group of criminals that are highest on BL/ind's list."
Now I knew I was dreaming. What kind of names are those? And what are Killjoys? I wondered silently. The silence continued as light began to fade, but I just continued to stare out of the window. I didn't know where we were going but I didn't bother asking. That thought alone should scare me, but it didn't. I felt comfortable with them. Like I had known them my entire life.
Occasionally I would feel eyes on me, but when I turned to find the culprit, everyone was focused on the road ahead. I sighed loudly in irritation, just to make some sort of noise in the silence as I sunk down in the back seat below the window. I loathed road trips. My back ached and my knees were cramping and I just wished we were there already. Wherever there was.
I glanced up when I felt the car slow down. Out in the middle of no where was a diner. I sat up a little straighter, my nose pressing to the glass to see more, even though the building wasn't big. Most of the windows were boarded up but through the open ones I could see a few tables and even a bar. In my head I saw this as a stop for truck drivers, laughing and joking with the old wrinkly waitress.
"Where are we?" I asked, shaking the vision from my head.
"Home, for now," Party Poison glanced back at me with a small reassuring smile through the rear-view mirror.
The others got out of the car and I followed their example and almost immediately my clothes stuck to my body as my collar became wet with perspiration. The heat was horrible, closing around me like a casket making it hard to even breathe. However, I could see the sun fading and the heat dissipating slowly. I had always heard deserts were cold at night once the sun went down. I guess I'll find out for sure, I thought to myself before walking through the door behind Jet Star.
A tiny bell tinkled, announcing our entrance to no one. Now that I could see the room better, I noticed booths lining every wall. Most of them were broken in some way, but a few of them seemed to be usable. An old juke box sat in the corner, catching my eye. It would be a miracle if it still worked, but it still provided peace in a place like this.
Kobra and Jet went to the furthest corner, sitting across from each other. Their tones were hushed, and I couldn't hear them, but by their expressions I knew something was wrong. The way they kept glancing at me before whispering faster sat me on edge. I glanced back at Party for any instruction.
"Follow me," the red head sighed, almost exasperatedly, before leading me down a long hallway. Stopping outside a closed door, he took a key out of his pocket. A small click and I was following him into a darkened room that was no bigger than a storage closet.
Party pulled out a lighter and lit a candle which casted the entire room into a soft glow. Party had walked off to near the bed, reaching for something in the corner. My eyes stared at the wall closest to me. Music records and old band t shirts clung to the wall catching dust. It reminded me of my room at home. Walls were covered in posters and bands, most of them familiar.
"Is this your room?" I asked as I turned my body to look at the other walls. My eyes fell on a broken guitar and I stepped closer. The frame was white, and the neck long. Silver letters were written across the side. "Pansy." I mouthed the words as my fingers traced the lines in the guitar. My eyes fell on the break in the neck, the strings barely clinging to the wood, hanging on for dear life. A wave of sadness washed over me at just looking at this beautiful instrument. I was hurting over the death of this guitar.
My eyes burned up in tears and I bit my lip to refrain from letting the tear roll down my cheek. I didn't even own the guitar, yet I felt like it had been one of my closest companions at one time. I moved closer, my hands examining more. I wanted to bring this guitar into my arms, fix it and play soft melodies.
My fingers traced the break as anger enveloped me. Whoever did this deserved to die. If the person who owned this guitar felt even a little of what I did, I know they would want revenge on the person who broke Pansy. Even I wanted revenge. My teeth gritted together, rattling my head.
"No, it's my best friends," came the calm reply as I turned around, my anger disappearing, hiding for now. Party was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite identify. He pushed some clothes into my hands before going to the door. "We'll be out here if you need us." His words were silent and I had to strain to hear him before he was gone like a whisper in the wind.
I turned back to the bundle in my arms. Most of it felt like leather, rough and frayed as if it had been worn a lot. Even so, it had to be better than the white I was wearing. At the bottom of the bundle was a pair of old black and white converse. A small sigh of happiness passed through my lips and I began to undress.
Korse's P. O. V.
I smiled to myself, congratulating myself as my footsteps clicked down the hallway. Sure, the program had been cut short, but I was sure with a little bit more time, I would have all of the Killjoys in my grasp.
Gerard's POV
I left Kobra and Jet in the booth, leading Ghoul down the hallway and to his room to get a change of clothes. After lighting the candle, I glanced in the box in the corner, pulling out a yellow and black jean jacket along with a pair of tight jeans and the only spare pair of shoes he had left.
"Is this your room?" He asked, though when I turned around, he wasn't looking at me. Instead, his eyes were locked on Pansey and I would have paid a million dollars, had I had it, to know what was going through his mind. His lips formed into a thin line as his hands clenched in anger. Come on, remember, I urged, waiting. After a few moments and recieving nothing other than confused anger from his posture, I walked over to him.
"No, it's my best friends," I sighed sadly before handing him the clothes. "We'll be out here if you need us," I whispered, disappearing quickly, unable to stop the pain in my chest as I made my way back into the main diner.
"That's not Ghoul." Those were the first words out of Kobra Kid's mouth as I slid into the booth across from him and Jet Star. Determination set a fire from my brother's eyes to the tick in his jaw. I knew he was just as angry as I was.
"How can you say that? Of course it's him," I frowned, my bottom lip wrinkling under the top one. I wouldn't even believe Ghoul's mother saying it wasn't him, God rest her soul.
"That's not what I meant," he replied quickly, waving his hand frantically in front of him. "I meant that He isn't the Fun Ghoul that was sitting beside you yesterday. He's changed. They," he emphasized with a snarl, "have done something to him. We should watch our backs until we figure out the damage and until we can get him back."
I couldn't argue, he had a point. It was Ghoul's face, what was left of his beautiful hair, his mouth, his body, but his eyes were different. Innocent, almost younger looking. His eyes held the joy and happiness of a kid that hadn't had to live through the death of his family and friends. His expression wasn't hardened by the years spent in self appointed exile.
My eyes had focused on the peeling paint of the table in front of me and when I finally looked up, Jet and Kobra were waiting for my instruction.
"You're right," I nodded. "It's him, but it's not. Something's not right here and we need to find out what it is." We had rushed too quickly under the assumption that Fun Ghoul still existed. Somewhere in his mind, I was sure we could find him. But Korse (I flinched at the thought of his name) was not someone to take for granted. He'd been after us for far too long to assume that Ghoul was one of us still. "It's as if he has no memory of anything before all of this," I exclaimed, gesturing wildly with my hands. "We have to be on our guard since we don't know what to expect.".
As if to reiterate my point, a loud thump coming from Ghoul's room vibrated off the wall, causing the rusty picture frames to fall from the perch. Jet and Kobra were on my heels, guns drawn as I shoved the door open. The small, shirtless bundle wrestled with the sheets to get loose.
"What the hell?" I muttered as "Frank" scrambled to his feet and ran back to the mirror.
"Holy Shit!" He exclaimed, his fingers running over the ink on his stomach, chest and forearms. I could barely understand the words leaving his mouth before he'd start a new sentence. I did however pick up on "When did I?", “Oh man that's" and the occasional "I always wanted that one." When he'd gone over the tattoos on his body at least a million times, he began pinching his skin.
"Either this is one really fucked up dream or I actually got these," he stared at his reflection a little while longer before turning to us.
"Oh hey guys, I didn't see you," he muttered, his hand running up to his hair, a pink hue edging across his cheeks. I turned to the shocked look on Kid and Star's faces which I was sure mirrored my own. Slowly, I closed the door so "Frank" could compose himself.
"Okay," I nodded, my voice barely a whisper as I broke the stunned silence, "We'll start at the beginning and figure out what all he knows."
Author: Zory22
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, eventual Mikey/Alicia
Rating: NC17
Warning: Violence, character death, adult themes, language, implied sex
Disclaimer: I don't own them
Summary: Frank wakes up in the hospital with Dr. Korse after a car accident. The Killjoys know him, but he has no clue who they are or where he is. Can they help him with his memories, or is Fun Ghoul lost forever?
Chapter 1 Chosen
Chapter 2 Empty
Chapter 3 Anneal
Frank's P. O. V.
The car vibrated roughly, as we tore through the desert, making my whole body go numb with the vibrations. The roar of the TransAm wasn't enough to drown out the unbearable silence, silence that was cracking at my mind like a egg shell upon a hard surface. When we'd travelled along the road for a good half hour, I knew I had to break it.
"Um, not that I mind you guys saving me from the burning building and all, but I still don't know who you are." I had to talk loudly to be heard over the roar of the engine, but the silence that followed made me cringe back into my seat. A deep sigh came from the man with the bright red hair.
"This is Kobra Kid and Jet Star," he pointed to each in turn. "And I'm Party Poison. We're the Killjoys. We smoke, we drink, and we're the group of criminals that are highest on BL/ind's list."
Now I knew I was dreaming. What kind of names are those? And what are Killjoys? I wondered silently. The silence continued as light began to fade, but I just continued to stare out of the window. I didn't know where we were going but I didn't bother asking. That thought alone should scare me, but it didn't. I felt comfortable with them. Like I had known them my entire life.
Occasionally I would feel eyes on me, but when I turned to find the culprit, everyone was focused on the road ahead. I sighed loudly in irritation, just to make some sort of noise in the silence as I sunk down in the back seat below the window. I loathed road trips. My back ached and my knees were cramping and I just wished we were there already. Wherever there was.
I glanced up when I felt the car slow down. Out in the middle of no where was a diner. I sat up a little straighter, my nose pressing to the glass to see more, even though the building wasn't big. Most of the windows were boarded up but through the open ones I could see a few tables and even a bar. In my head I saw this as a stop for truck drivers, laughing and joking with the old wrinkly waitress.
"Where are we?" I asked, shaking the vision from my head.
"Home, for now," Party Poison glanced back at me with a small reassuring smile through the rear-view mirror.
The others got out of the car and I followed their example and almost immediately my clothes stuck to my body as my collar became wet with perspiration. The heat was horrible, closing around me like a casket making it hard to even breathe. However, I could see the sun fading and the heat dissipating slowly. I had always heard deserts were cold at night once the sun went down. I guess I'll find out for sure, I thought to myself before walking through the door behind Jet Star.
A tiny bell tinkled, announcing our entrance to no one. Now that I could see the room better, I noticed booths lining every wall. Most of them were broken in some way, but a few of them seemed to be usable. An old juke box sat in the corner, catching my eye. It would be a miracle if it still worked, but it still provided peace in a place like this.
Kobra and Jet went to the furthest corner, sitting across from each other. Their tones were hushed, and I couldn't hear them, but by their expressions I knew something was wrong. The way they kept glancing at me before whispering faster sat me on edge. I glanced back at Party for any instruction.
"Follow me," the red head sighed, almost exasperatedly, before leading me down a long hallway. Stopping outside a closed door, he took a key out of his pocket. A small click and I was following him into a darkened room that was no bigger than a storage closet.
Party pulled out a lighter and lit a candle which casted the entire room into a soft glow. Party had walked off to near the bed, reaching for something in the corner. My eyes stared at the wall closest to me. Music records and old band t shirts clung to the wall catching dust. It reminded me of my room at home. Walls were covered in posters and bands, most of them familiar.
"Is this your room?" I asked as I turned my body to look at the other walls. My eyes fell on a broken guitar and I stepped closer. The frame was white, and the neck long. Silver letters were written across the side. "Pansy." I mouthed the words as my fingers traced the lines in the guitar. My eyes fell on the break in the neck, the strings barely clinging to the wood, hanging on for dear life. A wave of sadness washed over me at just looking at this beautiful instrument. I was hurting over the death of this guitar.
My eyes burned up in tears and I bit my lip to refrain from letting the tear roll down my cheek. I didn't even own the guitar, yet I felt like it had been one of my closest companions at one time. I moved closer, my hands examining more. I wanted to bring this guitar into my arms, fix it and play soft melodies.
My fingers traced the break as anger enveloped me. Whoever did this deserved to die. If the person who owned this guitar felt even a little of what I did, I know they would want revenge on the person who broke Pansy. Even I wanted revenge. My teeth gritted together, rattling my head.
"No, it's my best friends," came the calm reply as I turned around, my anger disappearing, hiding for now. Party was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite identify. He pushed some clothes into my hands before going to the door. "We'll be out here if you need us." His words were silent and I had to strain to hear him before he was gone like a whisper in the wind.
I turned back to the bundle in my arms. Most of it felt like leather, rough and frayed as if it had been worn a lot. Even so, it had to be better than the white I was wearing. At the bottom of the bundle was a pair of old black and white converse. A small sigh of happiness passed through my lips and I began to undress.
Korse's P. O. V.
I smiled to myself, congratulating myself as my footsteps clicked down the hallway. Sure, the program had been cut short, but I was sure with a little bit more time, I would have all of the Killjoys in my grasp.
Gerard's POV
I left Kobra and Jet in the booth, leading Ghoul down the hallway and to his room to get a change of clothes. After lighting the candle, I glanced in the box in the corner, pulling out a yellow and black jean jacket along with a pair of tight jeans and the only spare pair of shoes he had left.
"Is this your room?" He asked, though when I turned around, he wasn't looking at me. Instead, his eyes were locked on Pansey and I would have paid a million dollars, had I had it, to know what was going through his mind. His lips formed into a thin line as his hands clenched in anger. Come on, remember, I urged, waiting. After a few moments and recieving nothing other than confused anger from his posture, I walked over to him.
"No, it's my best friends," I sighed sadly before handing him the clothes. "We'll be out here if you need us," I whispered, disappearing quickly, unable to stop the pain in my chest as I made my way back into the main diner.
"That's not Ghoul." Those were the first words out of Kobra Kid's mouth as I slid into the booth across from him and Jet Star. Determination set a fire from my brother's eyes to the tick in his jaw. I knew he was just as angry as I was.
"How can you say that? Of course it's him," I frowned, my bottom lip wrinkling under the top one. I wouldn't even believe Ghoul's mother saying it wasn't him, God rest her soul.
"That's not what I meant," he replied quickly, waving his hand frantically in front of him. "I meant that He isn't the Fun Ghoul that was sitting beside you yesterday. He's changed. They," he emphasized with a snarl, "have done something to him. We should watch our backs until we figure out the damage and until we can get him back."
I couldn't argue, he had a point. It was Ghoul's face, what was left of his beautiful hair, his mouth, his body, but his eyes were different. Innocent, almost younger looking. His eyes held the joy and happiness of a kid that hadn't had to live through the death of his family and friends. His expression wasn't hardened by the years spent in self appointed exile.
My eyes had focused on the peeling paint of the table in front of me and when I finally looked up, Jet and Kobra were waiting for my instruction.
"You're right," I nodded. "It's him, but it's not. Something's not right here and we need to find out what it is." We had rushed too quickly under the assumption that Fun Ghoul still existed. Somewhere in his mind, I was sure we could find him. But Korse (I flinched at the thought of his name) was not someone to take for granted. He'd been after us for far too long to assume that Ghoul was one of us still. "It's as if he has no memory of anything before all of this," I exclaimed, gesturing wildly with my hands. "We have to be on our guard since we don't know what to expect.".
As if to reiterate my point, a loud thump coming from Ghoul's room vibrated off the wall, causing the rusty picture frames to fall from the perch. Jet and Kobra were on my heels, guns drawn as I shoved the door open. The small, shirtless bundle wrestled with the sheets to get loose.
"What the hell?" I muttered as "Frank" scrambled to his feet and ran back to the mirror.
"Holy Shit!" He exclaimed, his fingers running over the ink on his stomach, chest and forearms. I could barely understand the words leaving his mouth before he'd start a new sentence. I did however pick up on "When did I?", “Oh man that's" and the occasional "I always wanted that one." When he'd gone over the tattoos on his body at least a million times, he began pinching his skin.
"Either this is one really fucked up dream or I actually got these," he stared at his reflection a little while longer before turning to us.
"Oh hey guys, I didn't see you," he muttered, his hand running up to his hair, a pink hue edging across his cheeks. I turned to the shocked look on Kid and Star's faces which I was sure mirrored my own. Slowly, I closed the door so "Frank" could compose himself.
"Okay," I nodded, my voice barely a whisper as I broke the stunned silence, "We'll start at the beginning and figure out what all he knows."