A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/story-alerted, I really do appreciate it! :)

Chapter title is from the song Over My Head (Better Off Dead) by Sum 41.

Chapter Twelve

I'm Too Awake For This To Be A Nightmare

The group drove on until it was dark. By then, they had traveled through Zone 12 and far beyond it, until they could no longer see ahead of them without the use of headlights. They tried to preserve the batteries of the vehicles whenever possible, though, and all of them were thoroughly exhausted anyway, desperately needing the rest, and so the van Cloudy Skye was driving stopped, outside of a beaten up warehouse, off the road. She opened the door and solemnly jumped out, her boots kicking up dust as they hit the ground.

"What is it?" Rainbow Reaction murmured, getting out of her own car with several others, and Skye turned to her, along with the rest as they emerged from the vehicles. "Shelter."

Wire felt a wave of relief. "It's safe to stay here?"

Skye glanced at DJ, who was leaning against the car, her arms crossed, almost as if she expected her to answer for her, and then took a breath, looking at the sixteen-year-old. "I don't know why not. I mean, I'd be worried of being attacked, but…they're gone."

"We still shouldn't stay too long," Bright Moon pointed out, and DJ nodded. "Just long enough for all of us to get our strength back."

"What about food?" Electric Candy murmured. "We've only got a little…no way it's enough for all of us."

Skye chewed her bottom lip. "We'll figure it out. I'll make sure it's safe, anyway." She inched into the warehouse, grabbing her gun and clicking on her flashlight, not taking any chances.

Dr. D, after being helped out and once again in his scooter, shook his head just enough DJ noticed. "You all right, Doc?"

The man did not respond for a moment, and then cleared his throat. "We should get the others inside as soon as she comes back."

DJ glanced at Show Pony, who gave a little shrug. Neither of them were sure if he hadn't answered because he simply hadn't heard her, or because he didn't know how to answer, but they left it at that, carefully opening the door of the car they'd been in the two inside weren't leaning on.

"All clear," Skye called after another minute or so, stepping out, a small, tired, but absolutely thrilled smile on her face. "You gotta see."

Frowning, two of the Killjoys stepped forward, peering into the warehouse as Skye shone her light around in it, and then they grinned as well.

Inside were nearly ten, large, practically full containers of water, along with a pile of unopened cans of food.

"No way," Chaotic Cat murmured, relief flooding through her. Where had all of this even come from? Had there been Killjoys here before them? And if so, where on earth had they been heading towards? She was obviously grateful they had left what they hadn't used, though; whether they'd been aware anyone else would stay here again at the time or not, they'd probably just saved their lives.

Skye smiled, sighing. There was more than enough room for the sixteen of them, and if they hid the cars behind it…no one would think too much about it if they happened to come by.

BLI is gone. They won't come back this way.

But the fear they had gotten used to feeling almost constantly was still very much with her—with them all, she knew.

And we're not out of danger yet.

Whatever the reason BLI had had for bombing Battery City, they had clearly been planning it for a long while. And that meant that there was a hidden reason behind what they already did not know, and—call her paranoid—she didn't believe for a second that this fight was anywhere near over.

Lost in thought, Skye didn't notice DJ until she heard a grunt, gasping in surprise and stepping out of the doorway so she and Pony could get past, gently carrying one of the four they had rescued.

She turned towards the others, who were all gradually bringing the injured inside, and she moved away from the warehouse completely, walking over to Dr. D, who was next to his now opened van, staring off into the distance.

"Doc?" she murmured cautiously, and he very slowly looked at her. "Mm?"

"I'm…I'm sorry. About everything."

Dr. D sighed loudly. "It's not your fault, Skye." He eyed her seriously. "You don't think that, do you?"

"No, no, I don't." Skye shook her head. "It's…" she trailed off and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just glad we found somewhere to stay for the night."

"It's gonna be longer than just tonight. If we want to keep moving, everyone needs to be well enough to do that." He glanced behind her for a moment. "I guarantee none of 'em will be better by morning."

Skye felt a sudden panic. "Are they that bad off?"

Dr. D frowned, shaking his head. "No. Not terribly. And I don't mean…not physically. I mean, that's gonna take time, too, it's just…"

She understood at once as he averted his gaze, flustered. "Oh," she murmured, biting her lip.

The man swallowed hard. "I don't know what happened to them while they were there, but…"

None of them were awake, and so Skye couldn't tell herself what exactly he meant, but she could see how they'd be pretty emotionally battered. Anyone would be, even just after what she'd witnessed them being put through, let alone anything that had happened in the days they had been planning to rescue them.

"And don't ask, either." Dr. D said, his eyes back on her. "I don't want 'em attacked with questions when they wake up."

"Yeah, of course," Skye nodded, forcing a small smile. "I'm just…I'm sorry for everything."

Dr. D lost the concentration he'd had again, his eyes going out to the distance behind her once more. "She was ten. I wasn't…"

"You couldn't have done anything."

Dr. D shook his head, looking like he wanted to say something but failing to, and Skye turned as DJ called, "You guys comin'?"

"Yeah," Skye replied, and then froze as she heard the Doc whisper something, barely audible.

"I knew her before, Skye. Before the fires."

"What?" Skye turned to gawk at him, eyes wide.

He bit his lip. "I knew her mother. Really well. Grace was barely two…I thought…" He cleared his throat softly. "I thought I recognized her, before…and when Jet told me her father worked for BLI…" he trailed off, shrugging ever so slightly like he simply couldn't continue speaking about it.

Skye placed both of her hands together and to her mouth, murmuring softly, "Did…she know?"

Dr. D vaguely shook his head yet again, and then placed a hand on his arm rest. "D-don't say anything about this."

Skye numbly nodded, and he gave a shaky sigh before starting towards the warehouse, and she stayed a moment longer before following, stunned.


Ow! My fucking foot!

Both the thought and the sudden jolt of pain jerked Mikey awake, leaving him wincing and disoriented. So he wasn't dead; that was a relief. Or else he was, and the realization that this was all actually just some afterlife-type limbo simply hadn't kicked in yet.

He tried to move and failed, instead blinking hard several times and awaiting his vision to clear. There was a dull light shining on him from the window he was lying next to, and he was instantly intrigued—a window? There hadn't been any in the room before…

He lifted his head a bit, enough to look around, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. What the hell happened? He remembered absolutely nothing except little snippets of being in the cell, Ray speaking to him, and Gerard…but he'd dreamed that part, hadn't he?

Maybe he was still dreaming—yes, that had to be what was going on. Or else, Korse had finally decided to do something with them. In which case, if he wasn't dead already and was merely hallucinating, it wouldn't be long until he was.

"Ray…?" he mumbled softly, and then felt his panic rising as no one answered. "Frank?"

His voice must have been loud enough to alert whoever was near him, and he heard, "Ssh, it's okay."

Mikey let out an accidental whimper of fear. "W-where…?"

"You're safe, Kobra." the woman continued, and Mikey winced. "…Skye?"

"Yeah, it's me." There were a few footsteps, and then she was beside him, kneeling.

"What happened? Where's Ger—my brother?"

"You're all here, safe."

Mikey's uneasiness melted away into a relieved confusion.

"Are you in pain?" Skye asked. "Your fever's been gone since yesterday, but…" she trailed off and placed a hand on his cheek, noticing his flinch and yet more focused on how cool his skin was. The illness he'd been fighting was clearly, thankfully gone.

"Mm…my ankle," Mikey murmured, and she almost instantly was holding a closed hand out before him, gripping a bottle of water with the other.

His eyes went to it, and he bit his lip; he honestly wanted that more than he wanted to see the others. He lifted his hand a bit, to grab the water, and she handed him both the plastic and two small blue pills.

Mikey blinked at them. "What're—"

"Pain killers. Nothing more, I promise."

Still with a bit of hesitation, he raised the tablets to his lips, downing the water as well. "Thanks." He tried to sit up again, and yet Skye put her hands on his shoulders. "Are you sure?" she asked, and Mikey frowned. "Yeah, I'm okay."

She released him and he straightened up, looking around again and abruptly realizing there were three other motionless figures around him, though with enough room between them that they could completely lie out, unlike many of the other times they had had to sleep on the run, usually in their car and very close together, tensed and not efficiently resting, always prepared to jump up and fight or run away from danger.

"Gee," he murmured in recognition of the red-haired Killjoy beside him, his head facing the opposite direction, an arm lying limp across his chest.

He glanced back up at Skye, who gave him a little smile, and only then did he realize he could now see her entirely clear, the light outside growing brighter. So it's morning. He'd lived to see another day.

He smiled a bit at that, and then asked, "How did you find us?"

"You don't remember anything?"

Mikey blushed and then shook his head. Not anything of their rescue, anyway.

Skye very briefly explained, leaving out the facts that Missile Kid was dead and Battery City no longer existed. She didn't exactly believe it would help him remain calm, which had been her instructions to assure were carried out if any of them awoke.

Mikey almost didn't believe it was possible, to finally be out of the building. But he was incredibly grateful, more so than he had ever been in his entire life, and he nodded. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Almost three days," Skye replied, and he flinched, startled.

She smiled sweetly. "It's okay. You needed the rest. You all did."

Mikey paused for a moment. He still had so many questions, but was trying to somehow pick out the ones he wanted to know immediately. "Where's everyone else?"

"Outside; trying to plan what we're gonna do. We didn't want to bother you all by doing it in here."

He glanced behind her, his eyes landing on the cans of food towards the back—or front—of it. His stomach growled loudly at once, and he bit his lip.

Skye had to have either heard it or known where his gaze went, because almost at once she asked, "You hungry?"

Mikey looked at her like she was utterly crazy and then seemed to realize it, widening his eyes and awkwardly averting his gaze. "Sorry—yeah, I am."

Skye shook her head. "My fault. Pretty stupid question, huh?" She stood up and then pointed at him as he attempted to try and do the same. "Wait; Dr. D gave me something for you and Jet…"

Jet…what happened to him?

She came back a moment later, holding crutches, and he stared at them, wondering how on earth the man seemed to always either have what they needed or know how to make it.

He took them, allowing her to help him stand, and then carefully followed her past the three to the other side of the warehouse, where several of the Killjoys had brilliantly overturned one of the larger, empty containers Dr. D had had in the back of his van, creating a makeshift yet usable table. Around it were five stools they had found in the warehouse itself, and Skye gestured at one of them.

Mikey almost smiled, taking one of the seats and then glancing back at the three again, worried. He couldn't help it. As far as he could recall, besides Gerard, he had been the worst off, and yet he was the first up out of all of them. He couldn't be sure what that meant, hoping that Skye would tell him if anything was seriously wrong with any of them.

She didn't say anything, however, smiling as she gave him one of the cans she'd gotten open with a can-opener Rainbow had had in the back of her car, along with a spoon, and he said, "Thank you," for what must have been the tenth time, still meaning it genuinely.

She nodded and then frowned as there was a soft groan from one of the others, turning and walking over to them as Mikey quickly ate the food, not even noticing that, unlike all the times before, he didn't mind the taste in the least.

"Hey,"

Mikey looked up finally and smiled at Ray, who was limping towards him with another pair of crutches.

"Hi," Mikey replied, watching him as he sat next to him, glancing at his leg. "You okay?"

Ray winced. "Yeah. You?"

The blonde nodded, and Skye then offered Ray the same tablets, which he glanced at and then gratefully took without question.

"What happened?" he finally muttered, and Skye sighed, beginning to once again explain quickly.

And this time, when she was finished, she wasn't asked where the others were; she was asked where Missile Kid was.

At once, Skye froze. Her voice wouldn't work even as she struggled, and after a moment or two of watching her uncomfortably try to talk, they understood.

"Oh God…" Mikey mumbled, closing his eyes, and Ray shook his head like he didn't believe it. "No," he said quietly, although it was clear he was very aware Skye wasn't being dishonest.

At last, Skye was able to speak again. "I'm sorry."

Mikey blinked away tears, shifting. "She saved us."

Skye bit her lip. "There was nothing we could have done."

Ray looked away from them both. That was one event he was all right with neither witnessing nor remembering anything of.

Skye averted her gaze as well and then pointed at the door. "I'm gonna…I'm gonna go check on what the others are doing, okay? I'll be right back."

She turned without waiting for a reply and then quietly walked out.

After a very long moment of silence, Mikey looked at Ray, shakily murmuring, "Thank you."

The older Killjoy blinked groggily at him as if he were confused. "What?"

"For, y'know…for helping me back there."

Ray gave a small, very sad smile. "I told you I wouldn't let you die."

Mikey at once blushed, so noticeably that Ray stared at him. "…What?" His voice was uncertain and concerned—he'd never seen the younger Killjoy seem so embarrassed.

The twenty-one-year-old did not respond for almost a full half minute, still pained by the news they'd been giving, and he shook his head. "Nothing."

Then, after another uncomfortable minute or so, he finally had to know, and he whispered, "Did…d-did you mean it?"

"Mean…that I would make sure you were okay? Yeah, of course."

Mikey shook his head. "Not that."

Ray then paled, turning his head a bit without breaking eye-contact. "No, you—you were—"

"I, um—I love you, too." Mikey blurted without thinking, stiffening and awaiting Ray to tell him something like he hadn't meant it, but the Killjoy did no such thing. Instead, his lips parted in a very small grin, something he had been almost positive he would never feel like doing again, and he reached out to take Mikey's hand. "…I did."

Mikey impossibly turned even redder. "Really?"

Ray glanced at the beautiful smile that was very shyly appearing on his face, and then he leaned towards him, pulling him gently by his hand until their lips met.

At once, Mikey relaxed and practically melted into his arms, snapping out of his surprised state after a second and returning the kiss.

He remained almost frozen even after Ray had moved back to breathe, and at last he opened his eyes to see the older Killjoy weakly smiling.

"Really."


It wasn't until that afternoon that either of the others stirred. Everyone else was outside, even Ray and Mikey, leaving the place eerily silent when Frank awoke. It frightened him almost as much as the fact that he didn't know where he was did, and, for a moment, he believed he was still in the building, then remembering everything that had happened afterwards.

He sat up quickly, wincing at the dull ache that came from doing so, and then looked around, forgetting all thoughts as his eyes landed on his unconscious boyfriend lying beside him. "Gee…"

Disregarding the protests his body gave of moving so soon and not thinking about how it would probably be better to leave him alone to sleep, Frank crawled over to him and sat again, gently grabbing him and bringing him into his arms. "God, Gerard…" he whimpered, unsure why he suddenly wanted to cry. Maybe it was the fact he finally could hold the red head without having the possibility of being yanked away from each other, or being liable to be tortured and worse at any moment. Whatever the reason, he had never felt more relieved. "Gee, I love you," he whispered. "I love you so much…"

Gerard moaned quietly, frowning, and then turned his head, his eyelashes fluttering slightly.

Frank kissed his cheek, and then his boyfriend mumbled incoherently before Frank made out his name. "I'm here, baby," he said, kissing him twice more. "It's okay, we're safe."

For a long moment, Gerard was still, and Frank almost believed he'd gone back to sleep, but then the twenty-four-year-old found Frank's hand, gently squeezing it, blinking hard, his hazel eyes nearly emerald in the light as he looked up at Frank, who quite honestly felt his heart skip a beat in both longing and love.

"Frankie," Gerard began, his voice cracking, and then Frank noticed his expression had grown a bit scared.

"Gee, it's okay," Frank repeated soothingly, reaching down to stroke the hair out of his face. "It's okay…"

Gerard took a deep breath and then sat up with a wince, rubbing his eyes as Frank released him, looking a bit ashamed. "Sorry."

Frank leaned a bit sideways to see his face, giving a little smile, and Gerard looked at him for only a second before he gripped the other Killjoy's shirt, pulling him in to kiss him solely because of the fact that he could, stopping a moment later. "Are you okay?" he asked, pressing his forehead to Frank's.

"I'm fucking hungry," Frank answered truthfully, opening his eyes halfway, and Gerard nodded his agreement, all at once looking around and frowning as he did not recognize where they were, turning again to Frank, who shrugged.

The door of the warehouse then opened, and instantly someone shouted, "Gee!"

"Mikey?" Gerard murmured, eyes widening as he saw his younger brother making his way towards them, wishing he could go faster than the crutches would allow.

Gerard let out a strained laughed as Mikey released the things and dropped to his knees, throwing himself at the red head, thrilled, not noticing how tense Gerard got from his touch. "Oh my God…I'm so happy you're—I mean, I knew you weren't dead, but—" the blonde shook his head. "I'm so glad you're awake!"

His eyes went to Frank, releasing his brother to hug him too. "And you…I didn't know if you guys would be up yet…"

Gerard eyed him. "Where's Ray?"

Mikey pulled back and opened his mouth to answer, instead giving a grunt of pain from the position he was in, clenching his hands and trying to prevent a whimper, eyes screwed shut.

"Mikes," Gerard frowned worriedly, carefully getting to his feet and then helping Mikey to his. Frank handed up his crutches, and the blonde sighed, grateful. "Thanks. And he's outside with the others."

Gerard took Frank's hand as he got up, and then finally noticed his brother had different clothes on, the dirt that had previously smudged this face gone.

Mikey understood his gaze. "There's enough water to get clean…and DJ found clothes a while back."

Gerard truthfully didn't know if he could have been given better news, and he glanced at Frank, who was clearly thinking the same thing. Then he shifted uncomfortably. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't feel relieved at all, even though he knew he was and should have been. All he felt was…nothing. Thinking about it only resulted in more disorientation that he did not need, however, and so he looked back at his brother, biting his lip. "…Where?"

"For that? Outside…behind the cars. There's still enough water out there from what we used."

The red head forced a grateful smile, and then Mikey gestured to the door. "I can get the other clothes for you…"

"I…"

"Or are you hungry?"

They both nodded simultaneously, and as he went off to lead them to the 'table', Frank winced and put an arm around his stomach, a pang of hunger shooting through it. Had he really not eaten for an entire week? Not that it felt shorter, but he honestly believed that meant he should have died days ago. They were always hungry, never able to find more than a small amount of food, and so hadn't been in the best position for being refused any at all.

The two of them scarfed down what they were given, pleased they were no longer starving as they finished and regaining a bit of their energy back, and then got up to follow Mikey out of the place.

"Hey! Party! Ghoul!"

Frank tightened his grip on Gerard's hand without realizing it, and his boyfriend squeezed back comfortingly.

Show Pony had been the one to call them, also the first to rush over to them, grinning. "Feel any better?"

"Yeah, actually," Frank murmured, and Gerard nodded.

"You should be," Dr. Death Defying said, approaching them in his scooter. "It's been almost three days for all of you."

Both of them widened their eyes a bit, just as surprised as the others had been, and then they gave little smiles as Ray limped up to them, also on crutches. "Glad to see you're okay," he said.

"You too," Gerard replied softly. "How's your leg?"

Ray winced. "Better than it was, I guess. I've been taking painkillers though…and I really don't want to feel it when I don't."

Mikey very subtly nudged the older Killjoy with his shoulder as he returned, holding out clothes for both of them.

Gerard slowly took them and again murmured, "Where?"

The blonde gestured to behind the warehouse, which had the cars bunched together, and then shrugged. "Not really private, but it works."

Frank hesitated. God was he ever desperate to finally get clean again, and he knew Gerard was as well, finally following the red head as he set off to the cars, still unsure as he caught up to him, though he didn't speak until the two of them were stiffly standing behind one of the vans, uncomfortable, their eyes on the ground.

"Um," Frank began, and Gerard turned around, very quickly lifting his shirt over his head, wincing a bit, and then stopped, his hands on the sides of his jeans. Can't…

He shook his head, trying to muster up all the will power he had to continue, and then felt his eyes begin to sting. He just couldn't. He had never had a problem undressing in front of anyone, mostly because it had only ever been the four of them, and certainly had never been squeamish when it came to Frank. But he simply couldn't bring himself to do it now, realizing how weak it was and yet having no idea how to get rid of the fear.

"I'm sorry…"

Gerard turned around to see his love hadn't even gotten as far as he had, on the verge of tears. "God, Frank, it wasn't your fault…"

Frank averted his gaze and Gerard bit his lip, walking over to him and gently embracing him. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry anything ever happened."

The younger Killjoy vaguely trembled. "I don't…I feel…disgusting."

"So do I." Gerard at last admitted, pulling back to look at him seriously, glancing at the water container briefly and then gently gripping his boyfriend's shirt. "Can I just…?"

Frank nodded without looking up, and the red head slowly began pulling it over his head, watching his reaction to be sure it wasn't frightening him. "Holy shit, Frank…"

Frank flinched as Gerard dropped his shirt, his eyes on the awful bruise that took up nearly his entire side, and he pathetically tried covering it with an arm. "It's nothing," he mumbled softly, awkwardly glancing up at him.

Gerard let out a sharp breath of disbelief and nearly said something else, but Frank leaned forward and kissed him before he could. Gerard tensed in surprise and then returned it longingly, hooking his leg around the shorter boy's.

Breaking away to breathe, Frank's expression had lost all but the slightest trace of discomfort, and, still uneasy, he managed to slip off his jeans before he lost the bit of confidence the kiss had provided.

Gerard hesitated, and Frank blushed terribly, turning around and kneeling to get to the water, feeling humiliation edging at him, so overwhelming he almost felt like crying again, until Gerard followed what he had done, also getting to his knees beside his boyfriend, his cheeks bright red.

Frank looked at him and gave a weak smile, something that Gerard returned after a few moments and then did not raise his head again, focusing on nothing but getting clean.

The one time Frank glanced over at him, he almost wished he hadn't. The red stains on Gerard's arms and the backs of his legs were long gone, as were Frank's, but the red head continued to rub at the spots desperately, until they were raw and bright for a different reason. His expression was troubled and confused and most of all angry, and after a moment, Frank reached out to touch his wrist. "Gee, stop."

Gerard shook his head and ignored the request.

"Stop. You're hurting yourself." Frank said, and was again disregarded. In fact, he could've sworn Gerard's efforts only became more frantic. Finally, he scowled and grabbed his boyfriend's hand, eliciting a surprised cry from him. "It's gone, Gerard."

"It's not!" Gerard moaned, smacking his fingers away. "It's not, and it never will be."

Frank swallowed hard, watching him tremble and lower his head in shame, and then he risked being lashed out at again to lean forward, hold his arms out, and cautiously wrap them around the older's shaking, pale body. Truthfully, he felt the same way, that he would never be clean enough after what had happened, but he didn't want to, and more importantly, he didn't want Gerard to know he did. He wanted to comfort him and tell him how okay it was going to be and really feel that way himself, instead.

Gerard didn't respond to the touch, but he didn't protest, either, allowing Frank to embrace him until his tears ceased and he was able to breathe normally again.

"It's okay," Frank murmured finally, and though Gerard knew it was anything but, he nodded and pulled away, struggling to focus enough he could finish.

And at long last, nearly twenty minutes later, the two had accomplished their goal, no longer caked in dirt, grime, and...whatever else they had been for what seemed like forever. The clothes they'd been given fit nicely—a bit looser than they were used to, but with all the bruises and abrasions still covering them, it was a relief. They weren't very colorful, but they weren't black and white; and after seeing nothing but such for days, the change was a welcome one. Though…if they ever managed to wash their outfits, he'd, of course, gladly take them back.

Lethal Rejection looked up from a table they'd set up in the back as they emerged from behind the cars. "Damn. You look almost new. Feeling better?"

"Much," Gerard murmured tiredly, and Frank nodded before noticing her smile falter. "Are you?"

Rejection lowered her gaze to the papers she was holding again. "I'm getting there, yeah."

Gerard bit his lip as he understood. "I'm so sorry."

Rejection smiled just a bit without looking up. "Me too."

Frank suddenly grabbed his boyfriend's arm, frowning.

"You okay?" the red head asked, concerned, and Frank took a shaky breath. "Dizzy." He blinked hard and then stiffened, abruptly looking like was going to faint. "Really dizzy."

Gerard eyed the healing gash on his head and then put an arm around his waist to support him, turning back towards the warehouse.

Once inside, he lowered Frank onto one of the stools, closely looking him over and grabbing the water bottle off the table, handing it to him. "What'd Dr. D tell you?"

Frank took a moment to respond, slowly taking a drink from it. "I've got a concussion."

"Frank…"

"It's not bad 'r anything," he insisted, raising his head to smile slightly at him. "You're who I'm worried about."

Gerard glanced away. "You shouldn't be."

"I have to be! You look awful."

"Yeah? Well, I deserve it."

Frank flinched. "What?"

"Everything that happened was my fault."

"Gerard—"

"Don't start," Gerard cut him off, his voice very quiet. "Everything."

"That's not true!" Frank protested, frowning. "You couldn't have stopped us from getting captured!"

"I—"

"No! End of story! There was nothing you could've done!"

Gerard shook his head. "I could've kept quiet."

The younger Killjoy stared at him, confused. "What?"

The red head stared at a spot over Frank's shoulder, feeling out at the wall behind him with a finger like he was checking it was really there in case he needed its support. "They died, Frank. Because of me."

"They came because they wanted to, and—"

"Not just them." Gerard murmured.

Frank was still lost. "Then who?"

"Three Killjoys…they didn't have anything to do with what was going on, and if I hadn't known them…"

"It wasn't you who killed them, Gerard."

The red head flinched, pressing himself against the wall. "Yes it was." he whispered.

Frank tilted his head. "What're you—"

"I fucking killed them, Frank! Korse put the gun in my fucking hand, and I couldn't—couldn't pull away, or—"

Trying to comfort him as he sputtered, Frank murmured, "Then it wasn't you. You didn't do anything."

Gerard slid to the ground, able to see the terrified face of Star Dust vividly in his mind. "Exactly. I didn't. I couldn't." He closed his eyes, hoping to make the image go away, but it remained. "What kind of leader wouldn't fight?"

"No, Gerard," Frank stood and then kneeled beside him, taking his hand. "Please stop. You didn't know!"

"Didn't know?" Gerard laughed miserably. "I'm the one who told the bastard where they were."

Frank was silent for a moment, and then he reached up to wipe a tear off his cheek. "Stop it, Gerard. Stop crying. It wasn't your fault."

Suddenly irritated as Gerard didn't acknowledge he'd heard, Frank scowled, pushing him back with an accidentally strong shove. The red head exclaimed, his eyes shooting open, looking up at him in fear.

"Listen," Frank said. "Stop blaming yourself. You're crying, Gerard—about something you couldn't have done anything to stop! Where the fuck is the guy who'd never do this? Where's Party Poison, huh?"

The older boy's reply was hardly audible, his gaze lowered in shame. "I wish I knew."

Frank feigned a chuckle. "So that's it? You're just giving up? Why?"

Gerard didn't answer. Because I'm weak. I wasn't strong enough to help Missile, or you, or anyone else, and I'm sure as hell not strong enough to lead anyone.

"I know what he did, Gerard." Frank continued slowly. "I fucking watched it happened. He did it to me, too!"

"And I couldn't stop him."

"Neither could I! I was tied up and you—you were fucking drugged, Gerard! Remember? It wasn't a choice that we couldn't!"

Gerard shook his head, and Frank put a hand on his cheek. "Please. Don't ever think that was your fault. Please."

The twenty-four-year-old was unable to prevent the tears from starting to flow down his face again, and Frank sat beside him, wrapping his arms around him like he had in the room before. "Please. I can't see you like this."

Gerard trembled and nodded. "Sorry…"

"Just please…please don't tell me you blame yourself again, okay?" He pressed his head to Gerard's shoulder, biting his lip. "Promise me?"

The red head closed his eyes wearily, forcing his voice to work, choking out a very weak, "Okay, Frankie."

I won't tell you.