FIC: A Path Tumultuous & Perilous (series, part #1)
Title: A Path Tumultuous & Perilous (series, part #1)
Author: famouslastwords
Pairing: Frank Iero//Gerard Way, implied Quinn Allman//Bob Bryar, other pairings to come
Rating: R this part (swearing)
Summary: Plagues of Biblical proportion have rained down on the earth for several years. Yes, this is about the Apocalypse and those who struggle to survive in its wake.
Disclaimer:As much as I would absolutely love to be involved with these men, sadly, like anyone else reading this story, I'm not. Please take all this with a grain of salt and a very big imagination.
Beta: illuminatebelow, neo_queen157
Warnings: AU, slash, slight het references
Author Notes: Plagued by a craptastic bout of writer's block for years, it's been a very long time (think lotrips) since I felt inspired enough by anything to want to do any serious writing for anyone but myself. I'm nervous about getting my feet wet, especially in such a huge fandom.
Special mention: Extremely special thanks go to several people who helped make this happen: illuminatebelow for pushing me to go for this and for being my ultimate beta. demolitionlove to whom I owe more than I'll ever repay for digging deep and finding what ultimately inspires my creativity on a daily basis. neo_queen157 for her sincerity and constant encouragement. And to my sis, _seasonofmists_ for consistently believing in me since the beginning of time.
~//~
"Tired, spent and wasted we trudge forwards, on a path tumultuous and perilous." -- unknown
Nostradamus prophesied natural and man-caused disasters, and the end of the world. According to the Believers, God spelled out the world's future thousands of years ago in the Old and New Testaments, warning the world in grim detail His plan for the end of mankind: Rivers of blood. Famine. Frogs. Pestilence. Disease on livestock. Months of darkness. Fiery Hail. Locusts. Death of the firstborn. Devastating earthquakes. Floods.
As a child Gerard believed whatever his mother told him. And his mother believed whatever the priests told her. He never believed much in God as a teenager, but Gerard did worry he would go blind if he touched himself like that. Gerard's eyesight remained intact (unlike Mikey's, so admittedly, Gerard was a little worried), so he decided to test God a little further. At 14, Gerard lost his virginity to Mary Margaret Simmons who lived two houses down. At 16, he gave his first blowjob to Johnny Price after gym class.
Gerard is certain that it wasn't his touching himself, losing his virginity or even blowing one-eighth of the soccer team that caused the apocalypse. But two years after the apocalypse began, Gerard's still unsure if he believes in God. Gerard believes in something, some greater power. But he's not convinced it's a pissed off deity who is punishing the world for fucking up his creation so much as it's the world itself fighting back against the shitty way mankind cared for its home.
Preacher is one of the Believers. There are three types of Believers: the Believers of the Apocalypse, the Believers in God, and the Zealots. Typically the Believers of the Apocalypse are the extreme radicals. The stockpilers, the people whose basements are filled with canned goods and shotguns and ammunition to rival Michael Gross and Reba McEntire in Tremors. The Believers in God, well. They're the people who, at the beginning of the end, stood on the street corners with their messages written on cardboard declaring, "We're cursed, repent and God will save us all!" Occasionally the Believers in God are also Believers of the Apocalypse. These are the Zealots.
Bob calls them The Idiots.
Gerard's pretty sure Preacher isn't really a preacher. In fact he's even more certain Preacher has never set foot in a church, a tabernacle, cathedral, synagogue or temple. Preacher has more tattoos than Gerard has ever seen on one person, and even more piercings. Preacher also swears worse than any sailor Gerard has known (not that there have been many), and definitely worse than Bob and Bert combined.
But Preacher knows the Bible inside and out. He quotes it constantly. At sunrise when the necessity for quiet begins, Preacher mouths John 3:16. At noon when the sun is highest in the sky and the threat is the greatest, Preacher quotes Revelations verse for verse. At dusk when the black clouds dissipate to nightfall, Preacher recites the 23rd Psalm for those who have fallen.
Gerard gets called Professor a lot. Everyone seems to have some sort of nickname. Ray says it's easier without using real names. Something about how it is supposed to hurt less when people fall. That it's less intimate if there are no names.
Gerard disagrees.
Any name, given or nick Gerard feels, is intimate. Gerard hates his nickname, but never tells anyone. They call him Professor because he knows things (or at least he pretends to know things). He teaches the children. He writes stories and draws pictures that bring his words to life. Frank sits for hours at his feet among the children, watching Gerard draw, or listening to the stories he creates about life before the Darkness came. About life when the Darkness will be over.
Frank calls Gerard 'Gee'. It's the only nickname for himself Gerard likes.
Sometimes the things Gerard draws scare Frank, so Gerard sends him off to help Mikey with some mundane chore. Gerard doesn't draw to record either pre- or post-apocalyptic history. He draws to keep the fear from dwelling inside him. He draws to give the fallen faces and names.
Preacher tells stories, too. He talks about the plagues and why the world was condemned by God to suffer. The Believers, those of God and the Apocalypse, sit around him, enthralled as he shares The Word in hopes to save their condemned souls before they're taken by the Darkness. The Zealots worship Preacher as if he is the Second-Coming of Christ incarnate.
"They're not back yet."
Gerard doesn't need to look up from his notebook to see how worried Ray is. He can hear the tremble in Ray's voice, the way it lilts at the ends of his words, higher than normal. Ray has a beautiful tenor voice.
No one sings much anymore.
"It's still too early." His voice carries a distinct lack of emotion, and Gerard can hear Ray shifting on his feet. "They'll be fine."
"That's what you said about Quinn and Frank."
Gerard's pencil tip snaps, causes a smear against the picture he is drawing. He flicks his gaze up at his brother. Mikey is stealthy, quiet on his feet. Gerard hadn't even noticed him walk up.
"That was different, Mikey. And you're being fucking unfair."
Mikey's shoulders slump, deeper than their normal slouched position, and his chin presses downward toward his chest. Gerard doesn't feel guilty about snapping. He's tired of hearing about it. It's bad enough that Frank walks around like a lost puppy behind Bob, trying to apologize at every opportunity.
It's been three months since Quinn fell and Bob still refuses to let Frank say anything about what happened. Yet every day Frank watches and waits in hopes Bob will finally listen, finally allow him to apologize for fucking up.
Gerard thinks Bob blames himself, not Frank. That's why he won't listen.
~//~
Bob hates waiting. Two years later and they are all still waiting. What they're waiting for any longer Bob has no idea. He's not sure he ever really knew in the first place. They were simply told to wait. And so they waited.
Bob hates the silence more than anything. The deafening silence that causes his head to pound and his ears to bleed.
The air he breathes is putrid; a suffocating stench of death and decay. Bob can taste it on the back of his tongue; it makes him want to wretch. It isn't the taste that sickens him so much as how far too familiar the taste of death has become anymore that Bob barely notices it.
"Are they gone yet?"
A quiet voice comes from behind him. Even in that hushed whisper Bob can hear the fear. "I dunno."
Time is of no consequence any longer as the silence stretches out. It could have been one minute or three hours before the whispering starts up again.
"Now?"
"I said I don't fuckin' know!" A harsh whisper, he can feel the other flinch against his back. He should feel bad, but he doesn't. They have to remain as quiet as possible. "Stop that."
"What?"
"That noise you're making. They might hear." The body tenses more, and Bob feels a slight pang of guilt for being so strict.
"... I'm just breathing."
"Then stop it."
"But--"
"Shutit."
"...'kay."
Bob knows his company has trouble staying quiet even when he sleeps. So he's not surprised when the hushed voice starts up again. In any other situation it might seem comical, this back and forth dance between the two of them and their polar opposite personalities. In this situation, however, Bob is not amused.
"Bob?"
Bob's sigh is heavy, exasperated. He's exhausted. They've been hiding for hours, since becoming separated from the rest of the group shortly after noon. "... what?"
"...I'm sorry."
"Don't start this shit again, Frank. Just don't fuckin' do it." Bob shifts, and it's awkward for them both for a few seconds until he wiggles around enough to face Frank. The space they're cramped into is tiny, made for one, maybe one and a half. And Bob clearly takes up room for at least one. He needs a cigarette in the worst way, and Frank's pestering isn't helping his withdrawals.
"I have to, you never let me apologize. And I need to. I don't wanna die never getting to apologize." Frank's voice hitches, and for a split second Bob's more afraid Frank's going to start crying than he is of the danger around them.
Bob believes in God, he just doesn't always agree with God's sick sense of humor. He's certain he's being punished for some lame-ass sin he committed as a child. Possibly the time when he was five and stole the change off his grandfather's dresser then bought an ice cream with it. He refuses to accept he's being punished for something really bad.
"It's over, Frank. Let it fuckin' go."
"I tried. I fucking tried to help him."
"Frank!" Then again, God isn't stuck with Frank who wouldn't shut up no matter that their lives depended on the silence. Bob wonders if the reason he's being tortured is that God doesn't want to get stuck with Frank either.
One day Bob and God are going to have a very long talk over a huge ass pint about all of this.
"He was too big. He was too fucking big and I couldn't lift him. They were everywhere I couldn't... I had to leave him, Bob. I'm sorry. I'm fucking sorry I'm so sorr---"
Frank isn't shutting up, so Bob does the only thing he can think of to make it happen. He threatens him.
"Frank, I swear to god I will kill you myself if you don't shut the fucking hell up about this. I told you not to say anything. How many fucking times did I tell you, do not talk to me about him."
"But's my fault. It's my fault he fell, Bob! It's all my fault."
Bob glares at him through the blackness. The air is too thick suddenly, and he can feel Frank's breath against his throat. He's tempted to get his lighter out for one brief moment so that Frank can see his face, pray it's enough to finally get him to shut up. "Yeah, it fucking is your fault. I should throw you out there myself for what you did."
He doesn't mean it. Not literally. Not that he hasn't considered it at least eleven times since they got separated from the others. Gerard would kill him if anything happens to Frank. Even if it was Frank's fault.
"Do it."
"What!?" Bob doesn't freak easily. In fact he rarely is bothered by much at all. Even in the middle of the shit he's stoic, expression blank. But Frank's getting restless, his voice is raising and Bob's starting to worry Frank's going to have a panic attack.
"Do it, just do it. It's gonna happen eventually. They're gonna find us just like they did the others and it'll be over and we can't win so just fucking do it."
"I am not going to ... Jesus, Frank! I wasn't serious!!"
"Yes you were. You've hated me being here from the beginning. I saw you that night. You didn't want me to come along. I heard what you told them."
It was true. Bob hadn't wanted Frank with them. He had shown up out of nowhere with some bullshit story. Bob hadn't trusted him. "I didn't trust you."
"You still don't."
Bob's hesitation should have given him away. "That's not true."
"You don't have to lie to me just because you're stuck with me."
Then again, this was Frank he was dealing with. "Just...shut the fuck up so I can think."
[end pt 1]