Keep Running [part 2]

[silentdescant]

Keep Running

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

They stay inside the next day and sometime around noon, when the sun feels like it’s going to break through the glass windows and burn them all alive and the radio, which has just been transmitting static for nearly a week, crackles to life.

“I’m hearing stories,” a familiar voice begins.

Mikey nearly falls out of his seat in his mad dash for the volume knob. He cranks it up to the highest setting. The rest of them freeze in place and stare at the small radio. Waiting.

“I’m hearing stories from all over the zones,” Dr. Death Defying continues. “I’m hearing wild and crazy things, and I don’t believe them. You won’t either, my little motorbabies; it’s the stuff of nightmares. Mr. Korse is out of hiding.”

“What?” Ray asks in disbelief. Gerard throws him a confused glance before he remembers that Frank never told Ray and Mikey about seeing Korse at that hotel.

“He’s been spotted zonehopping,” says Dr. D. The transmission suddenly filters out the static and his rough voice is as clear as day. “My little spies say he’s on the chase. I think we all know his favorite prey.”

Mikey touches Gerard’s arm, drawing his attention. He sees Mikey’s subtle nod to Frank, his raised eyebrows, and he understands the question. Gerard nods.

“It seems Korse has a new course of action this time around. He’s baiting our favorite Killjoys, my babies. He’s baiting them and we all know they can never resist a good fight. Keep it moving and groovin’ and keep those reports coming. Stay alive, Killjoys.”

Static fills the airwaves again as Dr. Death signs off.

“Korse is the one following us?” Mikey asks quickly. “And you knew?”

“I… forgot,” Gerard replies honestly. “I’m sorry, I thought we told you.”

“I didn’t think of it,” Frank adds. The turbulence in his eyes tells Gerard that Frank’s been thinking of it since it happened. “I saw him. I told Gerard after I came back. I forgot that I didn’t tell you guys, I’m sorry.”

“You saw him?” Ray asks. “Frankie, what did he-”

“Nothing,” Gerard answers for Frank. “Let it go. He didn’t give Frank any information we didn’t already have.”

Frank stares down at his own hands, clasped neatly in his lap. Gerard watches him for a moment, until he realizes Ray and Mikey are watching Frank too.

“Alright, let’s get to work,” he says loudly. “Ray, can you mark the spots on the map where we’ve already encountered Korse’s zone sweep?”

“Sure,” Ray says slowly.

“He’ll be moving methodically…”

“The attack last night was that group fanning out,” Mikey adds. “They’re probably heading this way, now that those ones we killed haven’t responded.”

“It’s not safe here,” Gerard concludes. “Mikey, can you check on the car? Make sure everything’s fully stocked and locked. And fill ‘er up with gas. We might have to leave in a hurry.”

Mikey disappears out the door. Ray spreads his maps across the table Frank’s sitting at and takes the seat next to him. It’s on the tip of Gerard’s tongue to snap at Ray and make him move, but Frank doesn’t seem upset by Ray’s closeness. He doesn’t move at all. Gerard slides into the chair across from Frank and nudges his foot under the table. Frank doesn’t acknowledge the contact.

“Okay, show me,” Gerard says to Ray.

By the end of Ray’s briefing, Frank’s actually looking at the maps, so that’s progress. Gerard nudges him again with his foot, and this time Frank glances up-only for the barest second, but he meets Gerard’s eyes without hesitation.

They both turn their attention back to the map, at the mark for a warehouse that Ray’s finger still rests upon. Gerard looks up and nods at Ray. “We’ll go there,” he decides.

Ray nods back, a quick jerk of his head, and rolls up the map. Gerard slides out of his chair and takes Frank by the arm, leading him away while Ray cleans up.

“It’s always going to be more dangerous for you, now,” he tells Frank in a low voice. “The closer we get to him, the more he’s going to focus on you.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I know,” Gerard says quickly. It doesn’t matter if Frank can handle himself or not; he’s not going to be babied, and they can’t play it safe and avoid Korse forever. “I just need you to be in control, okay?”

“I got it.”

“You sure?”

“I got it,” Frank repeats firmly. Gerard thinks of an hour before, when Frank withdrew so far into himself that he couldn’t even look Gerard in the eye, and squeezes Frank’s arm.

They leave while it’s still daylight. Ray sets a course back the way they came, heading deeper into the desert, hopefully throwing the drac search parties off their trail. Frank’s in the backseat, methodically checking each of the battery packs for the rayguns. He has a list stuffed halfway beneath his thigh with the battery serial numbers and the amount of charge each one has left written on it in red marker.

Gerard watches him work in the rearview, his eyes sliding away from the road every few minutes. Frank never catches him looking.

They drive for a few hours before the warehouse comes into view. It’s a long, flat box breaking up the horizon, and it doesn’t get any more interesting as they draw nearer. Ray tells them it used to be some sort of packaging plant, that’s what it was marked as on the outdated map, but that zonerunners have been using it as a hideout for the past few years.

“Why isn’t it marked as a safehouse?” Mikey asks, leaning in between the front seats to poke Ray’s shoulder.

“Because it’s not safe,” Ray replies bluntly. “It’s government-controlled, just abandoned. Apparently Korse has used it as a home base in the past. Runners can only use it if it’s empty, and if they keep an eye out for dracs. We can’t store any supplies there or anything.”

“So it should be the last place they’ll look for us, right?” Frank asks quietly.

“Unless Korse thinks we’re suicidal,” Ray confirms.

Gerard’s eyes flick to the rearview and he sees Frank staring back at him, his expression blank and his hair whipping wildly around his face. Gerard grits his teeth and breaks the stare, looking resolutely out at the road instead. He can feel Frank’s eyes on him for several long minutes, though.

They approach the warehouse around sunset and Gerard slows the car way down to a crawl as they circle the building. The first two sides are clear of any government vehicles, but then they round the second corner, still a good distance away from the building itself. Gerard slams on the brakes and throws the car into reverse to speed back out of sight.

They hadn’t been around the corner long enough to get a clear view, but Gerard caught sight of at least two drac-style SUVs. He parks the car and twists around in his seat to face everybody.

“Ray, you take left, check the last side. I’ll go around this way and see what we’re dealing with. You two,” he says to Mikey and Frank, “stay in the car and don’t fucking move, got it?”

Ray grabs his gun and his helmet and stalks off without a word of argument. Gerard snaps his eyemask over his face and holsters his own gun as he slips out of the car.

He’s barely taken two steps before he hears the car doors open and both Mikey and Frank tumbling out.

“You’re not going right into their fucking nest alone,” Mikey hisses at him. Frank doesn’t speak, just gives Gerard a hard stare that says he agrees.

“Fuck,” Gerard groans. “I told you to stay in the fucking car.”

It’s clear that neither Mikey nor Frank has any intention of following Gerard’s orders, so he just sighs and keeps walking until he’s up against the side of the building. Mikey and Frank are both a few steps behind him. Gerard slows down so they can catch up as he reaches the corner of the warehouse.

He peeks around the wall, motioning for the others to stay back. He sees two of the SUVs, but that’s too small to be a hunting party, and there’s no reason for Korse to send a new search party to a building that’s already been swept. It’s weird, the whole situation, and it makes Gerard nervous.

There’s no movement around the cars; Gerard calls the coast clear and lets Frank and Mikey come with him around the corner. They start walking.

About halfway to the cars, Frank speeds up and moves in close to Gerard. “Gee, I have a bad feeling about this,” he murmurs under his breath.

Gerard replies, “Me too,” and neither of them slows down or turns back.

They’re nearing the bright, shiny SUVs cautiously, moving in a wide circle around them, heading for the whitewashed door set into the wall. Frank and Gerard both see the extra car at the same time. Frank freezes in place; Mikey smacks into him and they both stumble. Gerard stops as well and catches Frank’s arm to keep him on his feet.

“What the hell, Frank?” Mikey asks shrilly.

“Stay here,” Gerard tells Frank. He looks at Mikey. “Stay with him, and fucking stay here. I mean it this time.”

Gerard moves away, toward the entrance to the building, and Frank lunges after him, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. “No! No, you can’t go in there, no, Gee, please, you can’t-”

“Just stay here,” Gerard says. He means to be comforting, but his voice comes out more forceful than anything. “Stay out of sight. I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna check it out.”

He breaks away from Frank and Mikey and sprints to the door, slowing as he reaches it to stay light and quiet on his feet. It opens easily for him; the hinges are well-maintained and whatever lock the door may have once had is busted. He slips into the dark room inside, gun drawn and finger on the trigger.

Most of the lights in the big, open packaging room are off, so it doesn’t take long for Gerard to follow the glow of office lights and find Korse. He’s in some kind of control room, with a bank of computers set into one wall and a conference table in the middle, and Korse is standing at one end with a drac on either side of him.

Gerard enters silently, aims his gun, and waits for Korse to notice him.

When Korse does look up and lock eyes with Gerard, he smiles and dismisses the two dracs.

“Party Poison. What a pleasure.”

“This is where it ends. I’ve had enough. You can’t-”

“What, are you upset I broke your favorite toy?” Korse taunts. He makes a weird little jerk of his head and his smile widens. He slowly moves toward the door directly opposite the one Gerard came through, and just when he reaches it, the two dracs come back with Frank hanging between them.

Gerard gasps and takes an instinctive step forward.

“Right on time. So nice of you to join us,” Korse tells Frank. Then he punches Frank in the stomach; the dracs release his arms and he goes down hard, slamming to his knees and gasping frantically for breath. “Where’s your mask, Fun Ghoul?”

Frank lashes out at Korse, throwing himself at Korse’s knees in an effort to topple him, but one of the dracs grabs a handful of Frank’s shirt and hauls him backwards.

Korse laughs. “Oh, that’s right. I slashed it up, didn’t I? Didn’t I, Frankie?”

Gerard catches Frank’s wince at Korse using his real name, and he takes another step forward and adjusts his grip on his gun. “Stop it,” he growls. “This was supposed to be between you and me.”

“Oh, but it is, Gerard,” Korse replies smoothly. He motions to the two dracs. “These two didn’t come here alone. Search the building.” He then casually draws his gun and levels it at Frank’s head.

The dracs disappear, leaving Frank on his knees, panting, clutching his stomach, and Gerard and Korse locked in a stand-off. As soon as the door closes, Gerard crosses the room and shoves his gun right in Korse’s face.

“You don’t want to do that.”

“Gimme a reason not to blow your fucking head off,” Gerard shouts. “You had no fucking right.”

“I have every fucking right, Gerard Way. I control these zones. You’re just the fucking roaches that refuse to die. Now, step. Back.”

Korse nudges Frank’s forehead with the gun. Gerard takes a step back. Korse breaks into a smile.

“I’m so glad my little bet paid off,” he says. “I kept thinking, if only they had captured your brother, but then they brought me Frank, and I couldn’t believe my luck. You’re so predictable, Gerard.”

Korse reaches for Frank with his free hand and grabs a handful of his hair. Frank cries out as Korse pulls him higher on his knees, and both his hands fly to where Korse is holding him.

“Let him go!” Gerard shouts automatically. He holds his gun with both hands and barely restrains himself from moving forward again. “Let him go!”

Korse drags Frank up to his feet-literally drags him, lifting him by his hair and making Frank scream-and then moves his hand to Frank’s throat. Gerard can see how deeply Korse’s long fingers are indenting Frank’s skin, and Frank’s cries choke off and he falls silent as he sucks in a breath of air and tries to claw at Korse’s hand.

Korse looks at Frank, but he speaks to Gerard. “Know that I’ve finally got you, Gerard Way. You’re like a fucking puppet. All I have to do is pull the right string-”

Gerard watches, horrified but too shocked to even move, as Korse yanks Frank in and kisses him, forcing his tongue between Frank’s parted lips. It doesn’t last long, but it’s enough for Korse to prove his point. He pushes Frank’s face away, after, and runs his fingers through Frank’s tangled hair.

“Shh, shh, pet. I’m not going to kill you yet. That’s for later.”

Frank is shivering, shaking violently, but he’s able to stand on his own feet. He doesn’t pull away from Korse’s hand in his hair, though. He doesn’t try to run away from him at all, even though Korse isn’t really holding him anymore.

“Please don’t, please let go, please,” Frank whispers. “Let me go.”

“Come with me,” Korse says. He leads Frank backwards towards the door and Frank stumbles after him. Korse brings his gun up and rests the barrel along Frank’s cheek. “It’s hard to let you go,” he says into Frank’s ear, though he pitches his voice so Gerard can still hear him. “You’re so much fun.”

Their backs are against the door, and Gerard takes a hesitant step towards them. If Korse takes Frank with him, there’s no doubt in Gerard’s mind that he will follow. But Korse doesn’t; he throws Frank to the floor and disappears out the door.

Gerard is too concerned with Frank to even bother running after Korse. He dives to his knees and skids to a halt beside Frank, rolling him carefully onto his back.

“Frankie, talk to me, Frank, are you okay, are you hurt?” he asks frantically. His hands hover over Frank’s stomach; his shirt is bloodstained and Gerard’s afraid to touch.

Frank’s hand shoots up and he twists his fist in Gerard’s t-shirt, yanking him down. “Don’t-don’t touch-I’m just-I’m okay,” Frank gasps.

The door across the room, the one Gerard came through, bursts open. Frank cries out and Gerard whips around with his gun raised, only to find Mikey and Ray pointing their guns right back at him.

“Jesus Christ, you scared us,” Gerard breathes. “Where the hell-”

“We ran into a few dracs across the factory floor,” Ray says. “Is he okay?”

“Korse?”

“No, Frank-”

“He’ll be fine; where is Korse?”

“He was here?”

“Oh, god,” Gerard sighs. “He’s gone by now. We gotta get out of here.”

“Can he walk?” Mikey asks in alarm. “Is he okay?”

“You okay, Frankie?” Ray echoes.

“C’mon, Frank,” Gerard whispers. “Let us help you.”

Mikey hurries around to Frank’s other side as Gerard lifts him up. They each take Frank’s arm over their shoulders to help him walk, but Frank leans heavily on Gerard and clings to his shirt. Mikey eventually lets Gerard take over and pulls out his gun to guard them from the rear.

Sure enough, when they reach the parking area outside, Korse’s sports car is gone. Ray confirms that all the dracs left in the building are dead.

“We gotta get the fuck out of here,” Gerard mutters, scanning the horizon for incoming SUVs. Korse has almost certainly sent word of their location by now. “Safehouse near here?”

“I know of one,” Ray answers. “I’ll bring the car around.”

He dashes off around the side of the building, where they left the trans-am. Mikey whirls on Gerard.

“What the hell happened in there?” he asks angrily.

“Not now, Mikey,” Gerard replies firmly. “Just back the hell off.” His tone softens considerably as he turns his attention to Frank. “Can you lift up your shirt, Frankie? Let Mikey see the stitches, okay?”

“You’re never gonna let this fucking wound heal, are you?” Mikey says under his breath as he slides to his knees in front of Frank. He spends a moment examining the damage-Gerard closes his eyes and prays for the best-and finally says, “He should be fine, we just gotta get him a new bandage for it. Doesn’t need new stitches.”

“Thank fuck,” Gerard breathes. “I’m fucking done with sewing you up, alright, Frankie?”

“I’ll try not to get fucking punched in the stomach again,” Frank snaps. “Let go, let me go.”

Gerard releases him immediately. Frank stumbles without something keeping him upright, but he avoids Mikey’s outstretched arm and just takes a moment to regain his balance. He’s panting heavily, and his face is too pale to be normal.

Ray drives up with the car. Frank makes a beeline for it, wrenches open the door and crawls into the backseat.

“Don’t touch him, alright?” Gerard murmurs to Mikey. “Don’t touch his head, don’t touch his hair.”

“What happened?” Mikey asks slowly.

“I can’t tell you now. Just please, don’t… just listen to him, okay?”

Gerard sits in the front passenger seat for a while, letting Mikey stay with Frank in the back. It takes until sunrise to reach the safehouse, and Ray drives silently, his eyes on the dim road the headlights barely reveal. Gerard can hear Mikey whispering to Frank every few minutes, but Frank never answers him, and Gerard doesn’t know what Mikey’s saying. He doesn’t want to know.

They reach the safehouse. It’s an old diner; the kitchen’s gutted, no appliances left but the ones attached to the wall, and all that remains of the small dining area are the bench seats along the wall. Gerard steps inside and drops his bag to the floor. Ray moves across the room and flicks on a light.

“Will you be okay if me and Mikey go out on patrol?” he asks quietly. Gerard stares at him and Ray grimaces. “I just think… you should be the one to stay with Frank.”

Gerard nods. Ray crosses the room again and squeezes Gerard’s shoulder as he passes him by the door. Gerard hears the car start up again and drive off, and then the door opens.

“I’m sorry,” Frank says when he comes inside. Gerard turns around to face him. “I couldn’t let you go in there alone.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt again,” Gerard whispers. “I didn’t want him to know you were there.”

“He would’ve guessed, Gee,” Frank says sadly. “He knows things.”

“I’m sorry for-”

“I know. I know, you’re sorry, I’m sorry, we’re so fucking sorry we don’t know what to do with ourselves, I know,” Frank says. “Let’s just move on, alright? I wanna fucking move on, I don’t want to deal with this stupid fucking shit-” He spins and kicks the seat of the bench.

“Stop,” Gerard breaks in. “Stop, please.”

“Can we just-”

“Can we just what?”

Frank calms down and gives Gerard a weak smile. “I don’t want this to be hanging over my head, y’know? I mean-I mean, I love you. I fucking love you, and I just wanna… I just want to focus on that, y’know? Not all this other…”

“Yeah,” Gerard breathes. He can hardly believe his ears. He waits for Frank to speak again, and every second of silence seems to stretch on for an eternity.

“I want you to touch me,” Frank finally whispers. He takes a hesitant step towards Gerard and holds out his hand. “I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want you to be scared.”

“Yes-” Gerard moves in, meets Frank halfway. “Yes, Frankie, I want you so much.”

“I’m not scared.”

Gerard cups Frank’s face in both hands, hard enough that his fingers press into Frank’s cheeks, and he searches Frank’s wide, shocked eyes for a moment. Frank takes a deep breath and visibly calms himself down, and Gerard breathes a sigh of relief and brings their foreheads together. Frank clutches at Gerard’s jacket, his sweaty palms squeaking on the leather.

“Frankie, Frankie,” Gerard breathes, “I love you, I love you so much.”

“Gee, I need, I want-” Frank stops talking and surges in to mash their lips together. It’s a clumsy, desperate kiss, and once Gerard catches on, he turns his head and opens his mouth for Frank’s insistent tongue.

It’s like an electrical current connecting; desire-no, something more than desire; need-courses through Gerard’s blood and he grabs Frank around the waist and hauls him in. Frank gives that and more; he hitches one leg up around Gerard’s hip and rocks against him, and Gerard can feel how much Frank wants this. He slides his hands down to Frank’s ass and lifts him, and Frank jumps up and wraps around Gerard completely, arms twined around his neck to keep their lips locked together.

Gerard staggers over to where he dropped his bag and they tumble to the ground. Frank yanks the sides of Gerard’s jacket and pulls him down on top, arching up so their chests are flush. Gerard slips his hands between them and undoes Frank’s pants, trying to get a fist around Frank’s cock, but Frank pushes at him urgently.

“Off, off, off, get them off,” he says in a high-pitched whine.

He didn't even take off my shoes, Gerard hears. He freezes, blood running cold, but Frank’s not pushing at him anymore, he’s pushing at his jeans.

“Shoes, shoes, Frankie,” Gerard says. “Shoes first.” He moves down and settles on his knees at Frank’s feet, reaching first for his right foot to untie the laces of his boots. Frank lets him take off the first shoe, but he kicks the second one off himself and extends his hands to Gerard, motioning him back up. Gerard ignores him for a moment in order to pull Frank’s tight jeans down his legs and throw them across the room.

Then Gerard stretches up over Frank and Frank wraps his legs around Gerard’s waist, pressing his cock roughly against Gerard’s stomach. They’re moving so fast, but it feels right, it feels amazing, and Frank’s the one setting the pace.

Gerard remembers the things Frank told him about Korse touching his hair, remembers how Korse’s spindly fingers tangled in it, so he slides his hand around the back of Frank’s neck instead, pulling him up for a fierce kiss. Frank moans into his mouth and claws at Gerard’s back, like he’s trying to get inside Gerard’s skin by osmosis. Gerard pushes him away for only as long as it takes to get his own jeans unzipped; Frank reaches in and takes his cock in hand, stroking it with a surprising confidence.

“I need you, I love, please, I want you-”

“Like this?” Gerard asks breathlessly. He rocks his hips with the motion of Frank’s hand.

“Fuck me, Gee, I need to feel you, I want you in me, come on,” Frank whispers.

Gerard pushes past his immediate doubts and focuses on the fact that Frank wants this, he’s begging for it, and it’s not just a fantasy anymore. He spits into his hand and nudges Frank’s hand out of the way to slick himself up, then slides his wet fingers down between Frank’s legs to press into his hole.

Frank gasps once Gerard’s fingertip is inside; his expression is one of shock, but his body language urges Gerard on. He pushes a second finger into him but it’s so tight and Frank is so hot around him, and all Gerard can think of is that Korse must have felt this exact same thing. He scrambles back, away, suddenly frightened, and digs into their supplies for the lotion they use to keep their skin from completely drying out in the desert sun. When he comes back, Frank is gazing at him with a desperate, frantic heat in his eyes. He grabs Gerard and pulls him closer. Gerard pours some of the lotion onto his fingers and this time Frank moans when he pushes them into Frank’s ass. He finishes preparing Frank quickly and slicks his cock before positioning and pushing in.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Frank chants, clenching his teeth through the pain. “Jesus Christ, Gee, come on.”

Frank is so tight around him that it’s almost painful; Gerard has to stop and take a few seconds to compose himself. He stares dazedly down at Frank’s face, which is contorted with a strange mix of pain and desperation, and waits for Frank to speak again.

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

“Please,” Frank replies. “Please fuck me.”

Frank tangles his hands in Gerard’s shirt again and tugs him in. Gerard holds himself up with one hand on the floor and slides the other between their bodies. Frank shies away from his touch when Gerard skims his fingers over his stomach, covered still by his shirt and the new bandage underneath, but he pushes his hips up and Gerard wraps his hand around his cock.

“Come on, come on,” Frank chants. “Touch me, fuck me, come on, Gee, I want you, please.”

Gerard doesn’t stop to consider, he just follows Frank’s instructions. He pulls out a little, gritting his teeth at the overwhelming friction of Frank around him, slowly thrusts back in. Frank throws his head back hard against the floor and clings to Gerard’s shoulders.

“Oh god, oh god, please, come on,” he says, so Gerard keeps moving. He strokes Frank’s cock in time with his thrusts, and it’s rough and tight and not slick enough but it’s so damn good he can’t bring himself to pull his hand away. Frank drags his hands up into Gerard’s hair and he yanks Gerard down flat.

“Fuck,” Gerard gasps, flailing for balance. Frank’s moving under him, rocking back onto his cock and arching up against his body, and Gerard’s a little worried about crushing him, reopening his wound, but Frank won’t let him move. Gerard presses into Frank as far and as hard as he can. “Jesus, Frankie, fuck. Don’t wanna-don’t wanna hurt you, Frankie, come on.”

“Love you, please, Gee, I want it, I want it, please, god, come on-”

Gerard kisses him. He kisses Frank and doesn’t let either of them pull away for breath. He focuses his attention on Frank’s tongue in his mouth, Frank’s taste, Frank’s teeth nipping at his lips, the sounds he can feel rumbling up through Frank’s chest and throat, and lets his body move instinctually. Frank is still trying to talk, or maybe just moan, and Gerard swallows it all. He’s half afraid that Mikey and Ray will walk in on them, and half worried that Frank is pushing himself too fast, too hard, but he’s also one-hundred percent sure that he’s going to come in about five seconds, and he desperately wants to make sure Frank follows him.

Gerard strokes Frank’s dick like he would his own, fast and tight and frantic, and Frank breaks the kiss by jerking his head to the side and crying out loudly. “Fuck!” he shouts, yanking on a handful of Gerard’s hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Gee, fuck-”

Frank comes hard, and Gerard closes his lips over Frank’s again to swallow all those noises. He pulls out far enough to smear Frank’s come around his own cock for extra lubrication and Frank yanks on his hair again as he pushes back in.

“Jesus Christ,” he says through gritted teeth, and Gerard echoes him. “Oh, fuck, Gee.”

Gerard pushes himself up on his hands, breaking Frank’s hold on his hair, and carefully rearranges their limbs and gets his knees under him so he can sit up. He pulls Frank with him, onto his lap, and leaves his hands at Frank’s hips, and Frank wraps his legs around Gerard’s waist and locks his ankles behind him.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” he says, low and fast, like a chant.

Gerard squeezes Frank’s hips and rocks into him carefully. He has more leverage now, and he can feel his self-control slipping away by the second, but he wants to make sure he’s not hurting Frank in this new position. “Frankie,” he whispers, and moves one hand to gently caress Frank’s stomach over his shirt.

“Don’t. Just-” Frank gasps. “Just fuck me.”

“You okay?”

“Stop fucking asking and fucking fuck me, motherfucker,” Frank says through clenched teeth. He clenches his thighs around Gerard’s waist, pulling him in, and Gerard gives up.

He lets instinct take over and Frank relaxes once Gerard starts moving in earnest. Frank stretches his arms out to the side, fingernails dragging and clicking on the hard floor, and he throws his head back and moans, shamelessly loud in the silent room. Gerard feels an icy chill skitter down his back and he glances around, at the windows, afraid of being heard, but he can’t imagine shutting Frank up. He looks so beautiful, with his hair sprawled around him and sticking to the sweat on his skin, and so lost in pleasure that Gerard is almost tempted to close his eyes and let Frank keep this moment for himself.

He doesn’t, though. He can’t stand looking away from Frank’s face, his open, shiny lips and his tightly-shut eyes. Gerard licks his lips and drags Frank back against him, making him slide and shift on the floor, and Frank doesn’t resist. Gerard picks up his pace, and lets himself go, and comes hard inside Frank. He holds Frank against him until he finishes, then carefully lowers himself down onto his hands and knees and pulls out.

Frank lies boneless and sated underneath him, panting, and he stares up at Gerard’s face with a dazed, blank expression. Gerard leans down and kisses him, his lips sliding over Frank’s cheekbone and jaw, and finally his lips.

As much as Gerard wants to just collapse next to Frank and sleep, he knows Mikey and Ray will be back soon, and they can’t stay half-naked on the floor forever. He crawls off Frank and reaches for their clothes and shoes. Frank doesn’t move. He keeps staring straight up, not even watching Gerard rummage around.

“You wanna get dressed?” Gerard asks quietly. He means, can you get dressed without help? but that’s a question that will only start a fight. He holds out Frank’s pants and pushes himself to his feet. “I’ll make up some beds, okay?”

Frank doesn’t take the pants, so Gerard drops them on the floor. He tries to ignore the fact that Frank hasn’t really looked him in the eye and busies himself with spreading out blankets for them to sleep on. By the time he’s finished, Frank still hasn’t moved. Gerard watches him worriedly.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?” Frank asks. He doesn’t turn to look at Gerard.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Gerard shifts his weight nervously. “Um. I’m gonna go outside for a smoke, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”

He sticks his gun in his waistband and grabs his cigarettes out of his bag and practically runs out the door. He smokes two in a row and concentrates on not thinking about Frank, or about fucking Frank, or about Korse fucking Frank, or about Frank obviously having regrets.

By the time Gerard goes back inside, Frank is dressed and sitting down on one of the blankets. He meets Gerard’s eyes and his lips twitch up in a secret little smile. Gerard sighs in relief and joins him on the blanket. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t know what to say. He sits quietly and watches Frank wring his hands.

Mikey and Ray come back a little while later. Mikey offers to take the first watch; Ray says his goodnights and curls up on the other blanket. Gerard yawns and lies back. Frank stays sitting up, compulsively rubbing his knuckles in his lap.

“Frankie,” Gerard whispers. “You need to sleep.”

Frank nods. “Yeah, I will.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“Go to sleep, Gee.”

Gerard tucks his fingers under Frank’s knee, unable to resist the urge to touch. Frank stares down at Gerard’s hand with a blank expression; Gerard feels like he’s done something wrong, crossed some invisible line. But Frank flashes a smile at him, a quick shine of white teeth in the darkness, and pushes his knee into Gerard’s cupped hand.

***

Frank is asleep when Ray shakes Gerard awake at sunrise. He’s lying on his back beside Gerard, but his legs are still crossed and his hands are still clasped, and Gerard suspects he fell asleep out of exhaustion and not because he tried to get some rest. Ray nods at Frank, asking whether or not to wake him up, and Gerard shakes his head. Ray sinks into a squat, crossing his arms over his knees, and meets Gerard’s eyes over Frank.

“Me and Mikey will go out on patrol. We took shifts during the night; we’re both up for it,” Ray tells him in a low whisper.

“No,” Gerard answers. “No, you can’t just-”

“You need to stay with Frank,” Ray interjects calmly. “We all know that.”

“No.”

Gerard gets his feet under him and pushes up off the floor, backing away from his and Frank’s shared blanket. Ray rises and follows him.

“You can’t divide us up like that. It doesn’t work that way,” Gerard mutters under his breath. Ray watches him, a strange, sorrowful expression on his face, but doesn’t argue. “I’ll go out with Mikey. You stay here with Frank. He’s…”

They both look over at Frank; he hasn’t stirred. His hands are twisted together, white-knuckle tight, even in sleep.

“You know how to handle him,” Gerard finishes. Ray nods and ducks his head, some of his wiry hair falling from its loose ponytail and brushing his cheeks. “We can’t divide up like that,” Gerard says again. “We’re a gang. We all work together. It doesn’t matter what we feel for each other, because we’re all brothers, right?”

“Right,” Ray answers quietly. “We can pretend that.”

“Don’t-”

Ray shakes his head and meets Gerard’s gaze, once again fixing him with that sad, almost apologetic look. “We know how you feel about him, and it’s okay that it changes things. But you’re right, we shouldn’t divide up the same way all the time.”

He clasps Gerard’s arm and squeezes tight, underscoring the bond between them, yet all Gerard can think about is that it isn’t the same as the bond he has with Frank. It isn’t even the same as what he shares with Mikey, who’s been at his side his entire life. Gerard feels like he needs to apologize, explain, but Ray simply smiles at him and moves away. Gerard spares another glance at Frank’s tense, uncomfortable form and escapes outside to find Mikey.

He lets Mikey drive, staring out the open passenger window with his gun resting in his lap and his hair whipping around his face. After an hour or so, Mikey pulls the car off the road and sets the brake.

“What happened to Frank?” he asks, still looking straight ahead with his hands on the wheel.

“It doesn’t-”

“It matters,” Mikey insists. “It’s something to do with Korse, and you know what’s going on, but I can’t figure out why you aren’t telling us.”

“It’s not my place,” Gerard tries. Mikey shakes his head.

“We’re supposed to be a family, Gee. All of us. We can’t keep secrets from each other. Why won’t you tell me?”

Gerard takes a long, deep breath, coughing on the exhale as he clears dust from his lungs. His hand clenches around the handle of his gun. “When Frank was captured, they took him to Korse,” he says quietly. “We told you that.”

“But what happened? Did Korse torture him?”

Gerard sees a flash of Korse’s fingers squeezing Frank’s throat, his lips smashed against Frank’s, his tongue invading Frank’s mouth, and he shudders. “Basically.”

“So, then-”

“Korse hurt him to get to me,” Gerard explains. He hears Mikey’s sharp inhale but ignores it. “Korse is manipulating me, and he’s using Frank like a-like a-”

“Puppet?”

Gerard crumples in his seat, hunching low over his knees and covering his face with both hands. He drags his fingers through his hair, forcing them through the tangles, and breathes harshly through his mouth. A wave of nausea works its way up from his gut; he can practically feel the bile rising in this throat.

“Gee?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s working,” Mikey murmurs. Gerard raises his head, the question on his lips, and Mikey stares at him, his eyes wide. “He’s getting to you.”

“He hurt Frank, of course he’s getting to me,” Gerard cries, suddenly outraged. He’s not weak because he let his feelings for Frank affect him. He’s not weak because he’s in love.

Mikey sighs, reaching for Gerard’s hand. “What happened to Frank?” he asks again, his voice gentle this time, careful. “He’s hurt us all before, Gee. We all have scars. What did he do this time that’s different? Why does it hurt you more than anything before?”

“Because-” Gerard’s voice catches in his throat. He swallows and turns his hand palm-up to hold onto Mikey. “Because when Frank came back, he told me that Korse had a message for me. But it wasn’t something he’d told Frank to say. It was Frank. He let Frank escape, tortured and terrified and hurt, because it was my fault and he wanted me to know that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Mikey says, his usually flat voice heavy with emotion.

“It was, though,” Gerard insists. “Korse told him so. He said everything he did was to hurt me. Frank didn’t matter. It was all for me.”

Mikey squeezes his hand again. “It really fucked Frank up, didn’t it?” he asks quietly. “Whatever Korse did to him?”

“Yeah.”

“Will he be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard answers. He lets the truth of that statement wash over him, lets it take away the naïve hope that he and Frank might have a future together. All that’s left in Gerard’s heart is the ache of despair at having loved and lost.

“I fucked him last night,” Gerard whispers, near tears.

“You what?”

“After you and Ray left, we fought, and I fucked him. And I think he regrets it.”

“Gerard,” Mikey begins, warning Gerard off the subject with just a subtle change in his tone. He’s known for years about Gerard’s feelings for Frank; Gerard doesn’t need Mikey to tell him last night had been a mistake. Frank wasn’t ready. Gerard ruined it.

“He didn’t sleep,” Gerard tells him. “I woke up and Frank had just passed out sometime during the night. I don’t know. He just… He sat there, twisting his hands in his lap, and he didn’t sleep.”

“Gerard,” Mikey says slowly. “I’m gonna say something, but you aren’t gonna like it. But you need to hear it, okay?” He pauses; Gerard watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “You can’t let Frank make you crazy. I can see it happening, and I know it’s Korse’s fault, but you dwell on things, you over-think things, and it makes you crazy, and we’re on the run right now, Gerard, and you can’t let it affect you like this.”

Mikey lays his left hand on top of Gerard’s, holding him tight. His eyes are pleading and Gerard focuses very hard on taking in Mikey’s words and not blowing up at him.

“Do you understand?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah,” Gerard breathes. “Yeah, I do.”

“When we finish our patrol, we’re gonna go back to the safehouse and you’re gonna help Frank recover, and you aren’t gonna let Korse get to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Gerard’s hand slips from between Mikey’s. He folds them both around his gun and sits still while Mikey puts the car in gear.

Mikey stares out the windshield and maneuvers the car back onto the dusty road. “We’re gonna figure this out and Frank’s gonna get better,” he says, reverting back to his characteristic monotone. Gerard takes comfort in it, as Mikey meant him to, and flexes his hands around his gun.

They don’t meet any dracs on the rest of their patrol, but it’s still late in the afternoon by the time Mikey parks the trans-am outside the safe house. Frank comes out to greet them, and he does so by punching Gerard in the face as soon as he steps out of the car.

“Frank!” Mikey shouts. Ray comes running after him, hands outstretched to haul Frank back.

“What?” Gerard asks, shocked. His nose is throbbing but not bleeding, though he can taste blood from a cut on the inside of his lip. “What the hell?”

“You left,” Frank snarls.

“I what?”

“You ran away!” He lunges for Gerard again, stopped only by Ray’s arms clamping around his chest.

“Frank, Frank,” Gerard says quickly, realization dawning. “No, that’s not why, I just-you needed sleep. You didn’t sleep.” He catches Frank’s flailing fists in his palms, stilling them. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“What if you didn’t come back?”

“But I did.” He brings one of Frank’s hands up to his mouth and kisses Frank’s knuckles, right out in the open, in front of the others. Frank’s skin is dirty and familiar, and he doesn’t jerk away.

Ray lets Frank go, now that he’s calmed down, and he and Mikey back away, heading for the door. When they’re alone, with only the heat bearing down on them, Frank whispers, “I heard the car drive off and I thought-you left me before.”

“I was gonna come back for you,” Gerard murmurs, pulling Frank into an embrace. Frank’s arms are caught between their bodies, but he doesn’t fight Gerard’s hold. “I’ll always come back for you.”

“I’m sorry I hit you,” Frank tells him, his nose smushed against Gerard’s shoulder. “It was just… all day, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and how it felt, and I know you wouldn’t leave me, I know that, but you did.” His arms relax between them and he curls the fingers of one hand in Gerard’s collar, stretching it down slightly. His whole body shakes when he sighs.

“I’m sorry too,” Gerard replies.

They’re both silent for a long moment, Frank slowly unwinding in Gerard’s arms, until the door opens and startles them. Gerard looks up and sees Ray come to a halt several feet away from them.

“Mikey said you didn’t run into any trouble,” he calls. “I figure we can stay here another day or two, if we’re lucky.”

“I like this place,” Frank whispers. His breath a series of puffs against Gerard’s bare collarbone.

“We’ll stay as long as we can,” Gerard says to Ray. He squeezes Frank’s hip to show he agrees.

***

At Frank’s insistence, Mikey and Ray take the car and go on patrol the next morning. Gerard directs them to expand their radius; if there’s really nothing around, and if they don’t run into any drac hunting parties, he might turn this safehouse into a temporary home base.

Frank explores the kitchens, poking into every cabinet and twisting every knob. The gas stoves no longer work, but he discovers a trap door leading to an underground pantry full of canned goods. Gerard sends him back down with a flashlight and a pad of paper and Frank excitedly starts making an inventory.

Gerard, meanwhile, takes note of the diner’s layout and furnishings; all that’s left in the main room is the row of benches built into the wall, and the laminate counter, also connected to the wall. None of the outlets seem to work, but Gerard still hasn’t found the fuse box, so it might be an easy fix.

Frank comes back into the room after a few minutes, boots thudding heavily on the floor, and hands over the list he’s made.

“There’s some okay stuff down there,” he tells Gerard. “And a fair amount of moldy bread, but I figure we don’t have to eat that.”

“Yeah, let’s avoid the mold,” Gerard replies, grinning. “I was just about to look around for the fuse box, see if something’s blown. It’d be nice to get some power in here.”

“I’ll check outside for the generator,” Frank offers. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and rocks up on his toes, back on his heels, watching Gerard hopefully. Gerard stares at him for a moment, overwhelmed by emotion. He’s so unreasonably happy to see Frank smile.

“Gee?” Frank asks. Gerard snaps back to attention; Frank’s no longer shifting his weight, and there’s concern around the edges of his gaze.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he answers quickly.

Frank leans in and gives him a peck on the cheek, just a quick brush of his lips, and scampers outside before Gerard can respond. He shakes off the pleased flutters in his stomach and turns a critical eye to the establishment. The fuse box is probably out of the public eye, in the kitchen, maybe, or at least somewhere away from the dining area. He steps around the end of the counter and goes down on one knee to check underneath.

The front door crashes open, bouncing against the opposite wall. Gerard stays low on instinct, until Frank shouts his name. He pokes his head up and sees Frank digging through their bags for something.

“What are you doing?”

“Dracs. Heading here. Where’s my fucking-”

“You sure it’s not Ray and Mikey?” Gerard asks, his heart leaping into his throat.

“I’m fucking sure, Gee,” Frank snaps. “There’s a whole lot of dust on the horizon, and it’s coming this way. They know we’re here.”

“Your bazooka’s in the trans-am,” Gerard murmurs. Frank shoves the duffel bag away and pushes himself to his feet.

“We gotta-we gotta do something,” he says frantically, already twisting his hands together nervously. Gerard touches Frank’s wrist and leads him to the one window without graffitied boards covering it.

“We’ll be fine. We can protect ourselves.” Parting the blinds, he sees the plumes of dust immediately. He turns his hand palm-up and Frank laces their finger together. “There’s at least… three cars,” he says quietly. “We can count on at least three dracs in each-”

“Let’s say four.”

“Four dracs, three or four cars, so there’s at least-”

“Too many,” Frank finishes. “You got your gun?”

Gerard unlatches his thigh holster and takes it out, comforted by the heavy weight of it in his palm. He looks down at Frank’s thigh-he isn’t wearing his holster.

“Where’s your-”

“In the car,” Frank whispers. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the window. “With the rocket launcher and the extra ammo.”

Gerard remembers the last time he went swimming. He was eight, and Mikey was with him, and they were at the ocean with their parents. Gerard wanted to swim out and ride the waves, but Mikey was too small, and he’d get swept away. Gerard told him to stay put while he went out farther, and he did. And then Gerard turned around to wave at him, and Mikey screamed, and a wave crashed down over Gerard’s head, pushing him underwater and twisting him until he didn’t know which way was up.

He feels like he’s being shoved underwater, held there by the crushing weight of a wave of dread when he sees a familiar sports car driving in formation with the draculoid SUVs. He feels like he’s about to throw up, like gravity has suddenly shifted and he can’t get his balance.

“It’s not fair,” he hears distantly. Frank’s chanting under his breath. “It’s not fair. Not fair.”

“No,” Gerard agrees. He taps the butt of his gun against Frank’s wrist. “Take this.”

Frank gives him an incredulous look, finally ripping his eyes away from the impending attack. “It’s your gun.” He pushes it back toward Gerard. “I can’t.”

Gerard knows better than to argue. He adjusts his grip and looks wildly around the empty diner. “Okay. Okay, we need… Backup, we need backup, find the radio and put a call out to Mikey or Dr. D, or fucking anybody; we need backup.”

Frank whirls around, diving for their supplies, and Gerard turns his attention back to the window. The hunting party is heading straight for the diner. Korse wouldn’t be with them unless… “They knew we were here,” he calls to Frank. Frank doesn’t answer; Gerard hears him murmuring into the radio, sending out a distress call. There won’t be a reply, Gerard’s sure. Not before Korse kills them. He keeps that thought to himself.

He can hear the cars approaching, now. The distant rumbling growing louder with each passing second. Behind him, Frank falls silent. Gerard turns to look. Frank’s on his knees, his head in his hands, breathing heavily.

“Frankie…”

“We can’t stop him,” Frank groans.

“You’ll be fine. I won’t let him-”

“It’s not even me he wants…”

Gerard can’t argue that. To Korse, Frank is a means to an end. A means to Gerard. And now he’ll have Gerard.

“Do you think they got Mikey and Ray?”

“No,” Gerard answers, putting on a brave face he doesn’t feel. “I’m sure they’re ten miles out right now. Safe.”

“They’ll come back and find us dead.”

“Stop being morbid,” Gerard snaps. Under the growl of the engines, he can hear the crunch of dirt beneath tires. And then silence.

“They’re here,” Frank whispers.

Gerard glances at him and orders him to stay hidden behind the counter. He parts the blinds again, just a crack, and pokes his gun through. With any luck, he’ll be able to pick off a few of the dracs as they make their approach.

An army of dracs climb out of the SUVs and spread out. There are at least fifteen that Gerard can see, and some of them stand still, like guards. Finally, Korse gets out of his car. He stands tall and proud, with a satisfied smirk on his face and a white gun hanging loosely from his hand. The bright sunlight gleams on his smooth head. He and two dracs, both with BL/ind cloth masks rather than monster masks-his own personal guard, Gerard suspects-come up to the front door. Korse knocks loudly.

“You aren’t going to leave me in this sweltering heat, are you, Gerard?” he calls. He plucks at the ruffles on his sleeve.

Gerard doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. He doesn’t have a clear shot, with Korse so close to the building, but he keeps his gun at the ready. Korse knocks again, this time pounding on the door with the butt of his gun. It makes a hollow, thudding noise that rattles the blinds.

“Don’t,” Frank whispers. “Please.”

Korse murmurs something Gerard can’t hear, and then everything happens at once. The dracs open fire on the diner, blasting holes in the wooden panels covering the windows; Korse’s guards kick down the door and march inside, heavy rifles sweeping this way and that, cutting across the room with laser sights; Korse screams Gerard’s name and struts into the diner.

Gerard gets off a few shots, taking down three of the dracs outside and popping the tires of one of the SUVs, before one of Korse’s guards swings a rifle into the side of his head. Gerard crashes into the wall, groaning in pain, and crumples to the floor. He clutches his head; his hands come away sticky with blood.

Korse marches up to him and grabs a handful of his hair, yanking his head back at a severe angle. Gerard arches his back, trying to compensate, but the pain makes him dizzy and uncoordinated.

“Find him,” Korse mutters.

Gerard closes his eyes. The guards find Frank within seconds. Frank starts screaming, spitting curses and pleas and wordless noises of pain, and Gerard recognizes the sounds of him struggling against their hold. They bring Frank close-a stray kick lands Frank’s boot on Gerard’s thigh-and suddenly let Gerard go. He opens his eyes to Korse kneeling in front of Frank, holding Frank’s head in both hands. They’re staring at each other.

Gerard has both of the guards’ guns trained on him; he has no doubt that they’ll shoot him with no provocation, so he stays still.

“I wish I could kill you,” Korse murmurs to Frank. His fingertips press in hard against Frank’s scalp, but Frank doesn’t try to escape him. Korse leans in, licks Frank’s cheek, and kisses him there. The smack of his lips against Frank’s wet skin is loud; it rings in Gerard’s ears. Frank still doesn’t move.

“You’re too much fun to play with,” Korse continues, his lips brushing Frank’s cheek. He slides around and kisses Frank’s parted lips, ignoring Frank’s frantic, quick breaths. “You’re too much fun to hurt.”

“You don’t even want him,” Gerard blurts out. He tenses for a bullet that doesn’t come. Korse is looking at him when Gerard opens his eyes.

“You don’t know what I want,” Korse says smoothly.

“You want to mess with me, fucking mess with me,” Gerard bites back. “Leave him alone. You’ve done enough.”

“I’ll decide when he’s had enough.”

“No,” Gerard snaps. “You did this to fuck with me. Well, consider yourself fucking successful.”

“Oh, I do,” Korse says pleasantly. “I’ve been quite successful in breaking you down, Gerard. I know that very well, and my superiors are pleased. But I do take more satisfaction in a job done… thoroughly.”

Korse’s hands slide up through Frank’s hair, pulling it into two bunches, one in each fist. He shakes Frank, lifts him up high on his knees, and yanks his head back, looming over him with a menacing expression.

“Please, please, don’t, please, let me go, please,” Frank pants, his eyes clenched shut. He doesn’t even seem to be aware of his own words; he keeps begging even after Korse drops him to the floor. He falls to his knees, then with a gentle push, all the way to his back. His arms sprawl out to either side.

“I think I’ll take him with me,” Korse mutters as he rises smoothly to his feet. He nudges Frank’s thigh with the toe of his boot. “He’s far more entertaining than you’ve ever been,” he adds. He glances at Gerard as if Gerard should be disappointed in himself, as if Gerard had failed him.

“You don’t need him,” Gerard whispers. “You’ve got me, now.”

Korse’s face stretches into a frightening grin, exposing his sharp teeth. “And you’re the best, aren’t you, Gerard?”

Gerard’s stomach sinks and he’s once more overcome with dread. He’s said something wrong, he’s made their situation worse, but before he has time to backtrack, the sound of laser guns splits the air. The roar of an engine quickly follows; Gerard can recognize his trans-am anywhere. Fire lights his eyes again; he sees Korse’s grow cold.

Korse kicks Frank in the side, making him moan and turn over, hiding his face against Gerard’s knee. Gerard resists reaching down to touch him.

The battle outside quickly picks up speed. The trans-am skids to a halt and gunshots fly back and forth, and Gerard has no idea what’s going on out there. He and Frank were wildly outnumbered, and even with the element of surprise, ten or more dracs is a lot for two people to handle. Gerard sucks in a breath, psyching himself up, and launches himself at Korse. They tumble to the ground, Korse on his back and Gerard pinning his shoulders, and grapple together, laying kicks and punches wherever they can reach.

Gerard hears a blast of laser fire behind him and his heart stops. A body falls to the ground. But before he can turn to look, there are two more shots and Frank cries out. He’s still alive.

Momentarily distracted, Gerard doesn’t see the hit coming. Korse knocks him in the side of the head, covering his lace sleeve with Gerard’s blood, and it dazes him. Gerard falls to his side, panting for breath, and Korse calmly gets to his feet, brushing dust off his clothes.

“Take him,” he orders. He walks out of the diner without another word. Gerard expects one of the guards to grab him, but it’s Frank that the guard drags outside. He’s on his knees, but the guard has a hand fisted tight in his hair and it’s clear Frank isn’t at all trying to keep up.

Gerard rolls over, lurches to his feet, and swipes his discarded gun off the floor. Frank needs him. It doesn’t matter than he can barely see straight; Frank needs him.

He staggers outside. Most of the dracs are dead. His gun feels too heavy in his hand. Korse’s guard is trying to push Frank into the back of the sports car. Gerard wipes a smear of blood out of his eye and hurries after them.

The guard goes down from a shot to the head. The two dracs still standing each retreat to their SUVs. Korse guns his engine and speeds away, not bothering to pull Frank into the car or even to shut the door. The two SUVs follow Korse’s lead and kick up a thick plume of dust.

Frank is on the ground. Bleeding. Not moving. Gerard runs forward and drops to his knees. “Frankie?”

Ray appears beside him and gently turns Frank onto his back. Frank coughs.

Mikey covers the gash in Gerard’s head with his bare hand. “Christ, Gerard, are you okay?” he asks shrilly. Gerard ignores him.

Frank opens his eyes.

“Frankie!” Gerard cries. “Oh, god, thank god, Frank, oh my god, I thought…”

“Okay, stop,” Mikey shouts. “Stop moving. You’re fucking bleeding. Stop!”

“Ow,” Gerard groans.

Ray quiets them all with a gentle but commanding tone. “Stop trying to help. Let Mikey wrap your head,” he tells Gerard. “Frankie, are you hurt? Can you move?”

Mikey lays a piece of cloth over the wound and wraps it tightly around Gerard’s skull. “We got your call on the radio,” he murmurs. “Ray saw the dust. I thought you were dead, Gee. We saw the dracs and we thought we were too late.”

Gerard feels as though his heart is about to burst through his chest. He slings an arm around his brother and hauls him in, hugging him tightly even as Mikey bitches about messing up his bandaging. When Mikey finally finishes cleaning him up, Gerard is feeling about fifty times better than he had been. His head is still pounding, but he no longer feels dizzy or like he’s about to pass out. Mikey helps him to his feet and they go into the destroyed diner.

He finds Frank on the ground, leaning against a wall just inside the door, his arms around his knees. Ray is poking around the debris, gathering their supplies and anything useful he finds. Mikey gives Gerard a pointed look and goes to help, leaving Gerard with a gentle push in Frank’s direction. Gerard stands over Frank and offers his hand.

“What happened?” Frank asks him, ignoring the gesture. “How did he know?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard tells him quietly, “but we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

“I can’t do this again,” Frank whispers. He doesn’t look scared or even resigned; he’s just stating a fact. Gerard admires him, suddenly, for how brave he’s been. How much he’s survived through sheer force of will.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Gerard replies. “You won’t have to.” He offers his hand again, and this time Frank takes it.

***

[ part 3]