Chapter Eleven

The Ghost Of You

"Frankie, please, wake up!"

Frank blinked, his vision blurred, feeling someone stroke his cheek and then put their hand under his chin to lift his gaze.

"Or I always have you. I wouldn't have to do anything to Way…"

The Killjoy gasped, squirming to get away as the scene only continued in his mind.

"It's just me!" Gerard whispered, breaking away the memory, moving his grip to his terrified boyfriend's shoulders, trying to prevent him from struggling. "Frank, it's me—it's Gerard!"

"…Gee?" Frank mumbled, his senses slowly returning, the sounds of guns blasting and people shouting ringing in his ears. "What…?"

"It's okay," Gerard murmured, releasing him, and Frank shook his head, unable to remember what had just happened, finally noticing he was leaning against the wall they'd been shooting from behind, his gun on the floor beside him. "Sorry…" he said at last, realizing he had fainted, and he struggled up, getting to his knees first and then his feet, holding onto Gerard's arm for support.

What happened next was so completely unexpected that none of the remaining Killjoys could comprehend it. Hell, none of them even knew if the Dracs had realized it before they simply stopped fighting, directly in the middle of the battle, leaving every single one of the rebels utterly confused, momentarily frozen, before they began shooting again. The Dracs remained still for several moments more, until there were hardly a handful left, then raising their guns in an attempt to continue the fight but killed before they could get more than a single shot out, hitting none of them.

The lobby went dead silent, almost frighteningly so.

"…The fuck just happened?" Gerard finally muttered, and his voice echoed surprisingly loud. Electric Candy glanced at him almost immediately, startled to see them there. "Did you guys do that?"

"No," Gerard answered, and Frank found his wrist, grabbing it, using his other hand to wipe tears from his eyes, not sure where they'd come from. He felt sick again; very sick, and this time he couldn't ignore it, vaguely trembling and sweating.

Gerard must have sensed something, because he reached out and put an arm around his waist, drawing him close, surprised to feel shivers racking him.

"Something…something short circuited them!" Rainbow murmured, and Gerard shook his head, astonished. "That's impossible…the Dracs are—"

He stopped himself. They'd just killed so many, and were all clearly drained…they didn't need to know right now. And maybe that had been exactly what had happened, though he wasn't quite sure how.

There was a flash from under a doorway on the other side of the lobby, and Gerard almost smiled as he saw it. Missile, he concluded, remembering her fear of the dark. She must have been given a light of some sort.

"Gee," Frank whimpered softly, and then jerked out of his grip in the same moment, placing his hands on his knees, his head lowered. Gerard gasped in concern, stepping towards him, and then winced as Frank began retching, stopping after a few long moments and giving an agonized groan, now aching worse than before.

Gerard put a hand on his back, gently rubbing it to comfort him and kissing his head, worriedly frowning and then looking up once again, noticing the other Killjoys were either staring at them or at the Dracs on the ground, either way in disbelief of what had just happened. Gerard looked around, expecting there to be another wave of Dracs coming to attack them, but none came, and at last he led his love towards the door the light had been under, followed by several of the others who didn't remain where they were, stunned, and he jerked the door open to see—not Missile, but the two injured Killjoys still sprawled on the steps, alone.

Mikey was holding a small flashlight, however, something he hadn't had before. His eyes were closed, but he was biting his lip, his expression troubled; Gerard wasn't sure if this meant he was still conscious or not, and so he whispered, "We're getting you out of here, okay?"

His brother didn't respond, and he looked over at Ray, noting his face was very pale, and he turned to the others. "Help me."

"Is that it?" a younger Killjoy murmured, her voice quick and hoarse, like she was in shock. "Is it? That can't be…no, that can't be it, we're still—"

"It doesn't matter," Gerard interrupted her, lifting his brother up just a bit with a wince. "We have to get them out. Please, just…"

He glanced at Frank, who was leaning against the wall and staring at nothing, dazed, an arm around his stomach, and then several Killjoys came over to help.

"Missile!" Gerard shouted as two of them took Mikey from him, leaning back to look up the stairs. "God damn it…she was supposed to stay…"

He trailed off without realizing it, his eyes widened. Had she done what had just happened? And if so, how had she been aware of what to do?

The red head called her name again, now knowing it was pointless, and then stood, noticing something dark at the middle part of the stairs, feeling nauseous as he realized it was blood. But was it from Missile? Or...from whoever had gotten her to leave?

"You guys gotta get them out of here, okay?" he said, turning back to the others and unnecessarily gesturing at the two they were supporting.

"Where are you going?" Frank frowned, his voice hoarse, and Gerard looked at him solemnly. "To get Missile."

"How can you know which way she went?" Candy asked, and Gerard glanced at her without replying.

"I'll come w—"

"No," Gerard cut Frank off. The younger Killjoy appeared frightened, though couldn't be sure what exactly the reason for this was, wishing he could merely comfort him. "You've gotta go before something else happens."

"But—"

"Please," Gerard interrupted with, and, without waiting for an answer, began up the stairs, gun gripped tightly, forcing himself to act as if he had the strength for whatever he was doing.

The Killjoys watched him go for a moment, and then Candy reluctantly murmured, "Right. Let's go."

"No! I'm not leaving him!" Frank moved towards the steps, but the Killjoy next to him, Fire Bullet, grabbed his arms before he could, knowing he was too weak to fight him.

Candy looked at him seriously as she stepped in front of him. "Listen. We're gonna get these two to Dr. D, and then we're coming back." She frowned. "There's no one left, anyway. But we're not leaving him, okay?"

"No…" Frank shook his head weakly. He knew they couldn't have done anything at the moment, anyway; all the Killjoys that weren't injured were trying to hold Mikey and Ray up as gently as they could, and the rest hadn't even looked like they could have made it up the stairs.

Please…be careful, he thought, his eyes on where Gerard had vanished, and then he nodded shakily, not protesting again as they turned and exited the stairwell.

"Kid?"

The red head's voice was nothing more than a whisper by now, both because he was paranoid of being heard, and that, if he called it louder and got no reply, he would start believing the worst.

It was very quiet on the floor, however. It really seemed that the remainder of the BLI agents had fled once they'd realized they'd run out of Dracs to send in to fight. Such a thing was almost unbelievable, as he never expected them to practically give up, but there wasn't another reason he could think of that would cause them to do so.

And unfortunately, he had long stopped knowing if this was even the correct way; the trail of blood had stopped at the door to the floor he was on now. If she had somehow—

"Looking for someone, Way?"

The voice stopped him and his thoughts instantly, with such force he almost fell forward. He furiously swung his gun around to who had spoken, prepared to kill him, and then froze as he found he was aiming at Missile Kid, her eyes the only part of her giving away how terrified she was. Her mouth was covered by the agent's hand, the other pointing his own gun at her head.

Korse clicked his tongue almost scornfully, smirking. "You wouldn't shoot her, now would you?" he taunted.

"Let her go." the Killjoy demanded, feeling his own fear creeping up on him. Stop—please—focus!

The man didn't move. "Drop your gun and I might consider it."

"Now!" Gerard shouted, and Missile flinched.

"You've never exactly been in the best place to argue, Way. If you refuse, I will kill her. Do you understand?"

Gerard remained silent, his gaze on Missile, and then he slowly lowered his weapon.

"I said, 'drop it'."

The red head hesitated. If he obeyed, he would have nothing against the man. But…had he really had anything to begin with? The man was threatening to kill whom he very much knew the Killjoy cared far too much about.

Korse shifted the weapon impatiently against Missile's head, and she exhaled sharply, but as her eyes met Gerard's, she sent a silent, clear message, shaking her head ever so slightly.

Don't do it. Shoot him; forget me.

I can't. Gerard averted his gaze, and then his gun struck the tile.

"You really are pathetic." Korse said, looking him over.

Gerard stared at him in hatred. "Let. Her. Go."

The agent was still for a few moments more, and then he abruptly shoved Missile forward. She staggered, and Gerard reached out to catch her, stepping in front of her after she'd steadied, solemnly glaring at the man, who now had the gun pointed at him, stepping forward and kicking the weapon away from Gerard's feet.

"You just can't deal with the fact we won, can you?" Gerard jeered, and Missile clutched his hand very tightly.

Korse actually laughed. "You think it's over, hmm?"

Gerard snickered mockingly. "Well, your Dracs fucked up, so…"

Korse sighed, looking at Missile. "Ah, yes. It's very unfortunate little Gracie decided to shoot the equipment we used to send messages to them. I'm afraid it caused a quick malfunction in the orders given to kill you all."

Gerard practically smirked. "Shit, Korse. Beaten by a ten-year-old…" He sucked in a breath through his teeth and feigned a wince. "That's rough. All your badass agents ran away scared of her."

"Of her? No. And I would think it was more of a precautionary measure—one I will very soon take place in, as well. They didn't want to be involved in what's about to take place in…oh, I'd say, an hour?"

Gerard unknowingly took a step back. "What're you talking about?"

Without warning, the agent lashed out, striking Gerard hard with the barrel of his gun, watching him nearly knock Missile over as he stumbled. Missile gave a small whimper and pressed herself against the wall, eyeing the gun Korse had kicked away.

"I'm talking about," Korse continued, hitting him again as he recovered, "that soon, in sixty minutes or less, Battery City is going to be nothing but more dust and sand."

Gerard looked up, blinking blood out of his wide eyes. "What?"

Korse smirked without replying, and then Gerard seemed to understand anyway. "Oh, God…the deadline…"

"Unfortunately, it's being put into action sooner than we had originally planned. Your little raid has assured that."

"You're fucking bombing the city?" Gerard demanded, his hands clenching in anger. "With everyone in it?"

As if it was the most ridiculous question he'd ever heard, Korse merely sighed in irritation.

"Those are innocent people, you bastard! Children!" the red head shouted, and he stepped forward so suddenly Korse raised the gun to aim at his chest again. "If we believed someone deserved to live, or we could use them, we moved them months ago."

"If they deserved to live? Who the fuck are you to decide that?"

Korse's smirk returned, ignoring him. "And there are so many more people where we're going…"

"And where's that?" Gerard asked, pale, his eyes on the weapon, and Korse rolled his eyes. "I'm getting sick of this, boy."

"Why the hell did you ever need me if you were just going to kill everyone anyways?"

Korse released an exasperated breath. "There were hundreds who needed to evacuate from this building. You really believe we would have allowed even a chance of being caused trouble in the desert by all of you?"

"You still think we won't? Not every single Killjoy is here."

"A handful will be much easier to kill than the number it was before. It's a little amusing," he chuckled, "that by planning this cute little attempt at overtaking us, you really only assisted us."

"What're you gonna prove by killing all those people, huh? That you're a fucking threat? They wouldn't be able to know either way, wherever you think you're going is gonna hate you for it, and we're not scared of you. Never have been, and never will be."

"Not scared of us!" Korse mocked, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back, leaning over his shoulder to whisper into his ear. "You are terrified, Way. Especially of me—after what I did to you."

He roughly shoved Gerard to the ground, swinging the gun around to point at Missile.

"No!" Gerard exclaimed, eyes wide, but Korse only glanced at him, driving his shoe into the Killjoy's side, temporarily immobilizing him, and then turning his attention back to the girl, smirking at the fear she was no longer trying to hide from him. "You could've put the gun down before." he said, not expecting a reply. "It wouldn't have come to this."

"Please…kill me!" Gerard moaned from the floor, struggling to his feet, getting in front of Missile before the man could shoot. "Just…not her…I'm the one you said you wanted to make suffer. So fucking get it over with, Korse. Shoot me."

"I have made you suffer, Gerard." the agent chuckled. "Don't you remember? You and little Frankie." He smirked, pausing for effect. "You even stopped crying before I was done."

Gerard flinched so violently he staggered.

Korse smirked, pleased it had gotten to him as much as it had. He looked over the Killjoy, who averted his gaze, unequivocally ashamed and discomfited. "You're just a scared, pathetic little nothing. Look at yourself—you're shaking. Party Poison would never have trembled in front of me."

The red head's eyes stung, and then all at once couldn't hold back, tears mixing with blood as they ran down his face.

"He wouldn't cry, either…"

"Fuck you," he muttered weakly, still not looking up.

"I already did," Korse sneered, and Missile tensed behind the Killjoy, giving a little gasp. Gerard shrieked in anger, shoving the man back and then punching him as hard as he could. The agent hardly reacted despite placing his free hand on the spot the Killjoy had hit him, raising his gun and striking the red head across the face with it, pausing as he fell to the ground with a grunt, shuddering with effort as he fought to get back up.

"And do you know why I did, boy?"

"'C-cause you're sick—" Gerard spat breathlessly, blinking stars out of his vision. "—that's why!"

The agent disregarded the insults, and the moment he'd gotten to his feet again, Korse shoved him back against the wall, knocking the air out of him and pinning him there, pressing his arm into his neck. "Because I wanted to see you break." he finally said, smirking. "Completely. I want to always be known as the one who made an absolute, utter coward out of the leader of the Killjoys—and his little love."

Gerard coughed. "Y-you fucking ra—" he cut off as Korse brought his knee up hard, tensing and crying out, his eyes squeezing shut immediately.

"And you know what, Way? You couldn't do anything to stop me." Korse murmured. "Not one single thing. I could have killed Iero, and you would've simply stayed where you were, helpless. You are, and always have been, too weak. How did you ever become their leader?"

Gerard moaned softly as the man released him, exhaling sharply and collapsing, curling up in anguish, his already limited awareness starting to ebb.

"You're a joke, Gerard Way. And I'm the one who finally beat you." Korse watched him for a moment uncaringly and then looked for the girl, finding she wasn't where she had been, and before he could turn a shot was fired.

The Killjoy on the ground shouted in fear, again realized he hadn't been killed, and then forced himself to open his eyes, to raise his head just a bit, in time to see Korse stagger and fall to the side.

Missile Kid stood behind him, the gun Gerard had had smoking in her trembling hand.

He almost smiled in relief.

And then he heard a second shot.

Practically in slow motion, the ten-year-old fell to her knees, letting out a short, startled cry.

"No!" Gerard shouted. He scrambled up, pain momentarily forgotten, and caught her before she could hit the ground. "Oh my God—no, no, no…" he mumbled, removing his hand from her side and overwhelmed with horror as he found it was stained red with blood, the bottom of her shirt already nearly covered in it.

He fumbled to get his jacket off and then pressed it to her side. She gasped in agony, and Gerard eyed the gun in her limp grip, heard movement behind them. He grabbed it, jumped to his feet, whipped around—and found no one.

The hallway was empty.

Shaking, tears running down his cheeks, Gerard staggered. "You fucking bastard!" he screamed, as loud as his voice would allow. "Why her?"

He slumped to his knees as only silence responded, turning his attention back to Missile, and only then did he get his answer.

The man had taken every chance he got to further shatter his spirit, anything he could do to cause him pain. He'd hurt his brother and his friends and gone even further and now…

He'd known exactly what he was doing. Gerard's desperate attempts to stop him from injuring her had only sealed her fate. He had done the last thing he could think of to break him—by wounding the girl they all cared for, who they'd tried so desperately to save from them. Her father was gone, anyway, and there'd been no one to stop him from doing so. He didn't care; he never had.

"Please, no…" Gerard whimpered, applying pressure to his jacket again, blinking back tears, crying out as the need to save her and the fear it was too late to do so overtook him. Her breathing was terribly labored, and she was pale—far paler than he'd ever seen anyone become before, unless they were about to…

"D-Doc…" he mumbled, almost without knowing. It didn't even register that the Doc wouldn't have been able to get up the stairs, anyway—he just knew someone had to help. He gathered as much strength as he could, shrieking, "Doc!" and then sobbing loudly when he got no reply. He shook his head, taking her hand. "Missile…Missile, please, open your eyes. Can you hear me? You're gonna live—you gotta live, please…"

The ten-year-old whimpered softly, her eyes fluttering open just slightly, and though she looked right at him she didn't seem to see him. He put his arms around her and tried to lift her, thinking maybe he could get her downstairs, but he simply couldn't. He hadn't enough energy left in him, and even as he managed to get to his knees, he could get no farther, slumping back against the wall and sliding to the floor again.

Get up! Please! Fucking get up!

He tried again without getting as far as he had the first time, this effort ending in the same result, finally acknowledging the fact he'd refused to before—he was absolutely helpless.

"Missile," he whispered, then raised his voice again. "Please—Doc! Frank! Anyone!"

The only sound that answered was both of their shallow gasps echoing off the walls.

"No…no, please!" he begged, refusing to believe he could do nothing, and then groaned hopelessly, leaning Missile's frail form back into his arms.

"…Party…?" Her voice was hardly audible, and her eyes slipped closed again after she'd said it.

"You're gonna be okay," Gerard murmured, clenching his teeth and then shaking his head again. "I promised I'd get you out…that I'd protect you…God, I promised—I promised you'd be okay…just—hold on, okay? I'll…I'll find a way to get you out…"

He gently kissed her forehead to quiet her barely audible whimper, the hand holding his jacket against her side shaking violently. Maybe if he could just stop the bleeding, she would have a chance to—

He pulled back suddenly as she shuddered very vaguely, giving a soft sigh, and he stared at her for a moment before letting out a miserable cry. "No," he whimpered, and then he shouted it, angry, leaning over the girl who had saved all of their lives so many times, who had made this rescue possible…

And the same girl who was now gone.

"Please…" Gerard whispered, but his increasingly frantic gasps were alone now. He glanced at the blood on his hands and arms, groaning and shaking his head, bending over Missile and beginning to sob, absolutely heartbroken. "No!"

I'm so sorry…

The Killjoy was only just aware of the stairway door opening from down the hall minutes later, Frank and five others rushing over to him, shocked, and yet he didn't look up—couldn't look up—refusing to move, almost as if he expected that to make what had just happened undo itself.

But it didn't. Missile Kid was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. There was nothing he could've done about it, no matter how much he wished it had been different.

Rainbow Reaction bent down next to them, reaching out to the ten-year-old to find a pulse, closing her eyes and turning away when she couldn't.

Frank got to his knees, putting his hand on Gerard's shoulders, but he still gave no reaction, utterly numb and uncaring, and the black-haired Killjoy's gaze went to Missile, horrified. He then looked at Rainbow, as if he expected her to tell them all it wasn't what he thought. "She's not…right?"

Rainbow did not respond, and Frank let out a little cry, eyes back on the girl, and then his boyfriend, shaken. "Gee," he whispered, and Gerard only blinked. "C'mon, babe, we need to—" He was cut short as Gerard simply slumped to the side, and he caught him before he could hit the tile.

"I got 'em," one of the Killjoys assured him, and Frank stayed on his knees. He looked at Missile, touched a finger to her cheek, and then closed his eyes. She was so cold...

He felt an arm around his waist lift him up, maneuvering his other arm to rest on their shoulders, and he could hardly find in himself the will to walk.

Rainbow stood at last, biting her lip as she cast a final, sorrowful glance at the girl, and then, after a long moment, followed the others.

The Killjoys who hadn't gone back with the others to find the two stayed outside, all by Dr. Death Defying's van, almost afraid of the building, despite being fairly sure there was no longer a threat, stunned and not quite sure what to think of what had happened.

Electrical Wire, one of the younger Killjoys of about sixteen, went over to where Rejection was kneeling on the ground, eyes closed.

"Re?" he murmured, and she slowly looked up at him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm…" she trailed off. She wanted to lie and say yes, but she couldn't. Not when the only thing she could think about was how she was never going to see her brother again. "No."

"I'm sorry." Wire continued, placing a hand on her shoulder, and only then did he notice that the side of her shirt was covered in blood, having previously been covered by her jacket, and he gasped. "You're hurt!"

"Yeah." she murmured, sounding uncaring, and Wire frowned. "Re, you're in shock or something, stand up! You gotta let Dr. D look at that!"

When she did no such thing, Wire let out an irritated grunt and turned around, walking quickly over to Dr. Death Defying's van, eyeing what he was using to finish wrapping another one of the Killjoy's wounds. "Can I see that?" he asked, and Dr. D nodded without looking up. Wire grabbed the roll of gauze and set back off towards Rejection.

He bent down in front of her, showing her the gauze. "Fine; if you won't move, then here."

She very clearly saw it, but she didn't acknowledge it, looking away.

Wire gritted his teeth and leaned towards her, lifting her shirt just enough to see the wound along her hip, wrapping the stuff around her several times very tightly. It seemed to already have stopped bleeding, but he couldn't be sure. Dr. D would tend to it properly when he was finished with the others.

He ripped the gauze and secured it, lowering her shirt again and realizing he was blushing furiously. Rejection's eyes had closed again, though, so she hadn't seen, and he cleared his throat, standing again and wiping some of the blood he'd gotten on his hands off on his jeans, wincing.

Then, someone behind him murmured, "Look," and the Killjoys did so to see the group that was heading towards them, and Dr. D almost immediately did so, eyes widened at first in what almost looked like hope, and then confusion as they approached.

"Where's Missile?" he asked once they all were close enough, and not one of them looked up at him, though Rainbow stopped walking, continuing to stare at the ground as the others hauled the two Killjoys towards where the cars were very closely parked together.

At last, Rainbow made eye-contact, and instantly Dr. D groaned, averting his gaze from her and turning his scooter around, a hand over his face as he clearly understood.

"I'm sorry," Rainbow murmured. "She was already…she was gone when we found them."

"…Who did it?" I'll fucking kill them.

"I don't know. Poison couldn't say."

Dr. D shook his head. No, he couldn't think about it—the others were injured, he had to help them, no matter how much he…he just had to help them. He moved off towards his van, and Rainbow followed.

"Come on, stand up!" Fire Bullet was muttering into Frank's ear, his arms shaking from exhaustion as he tried to support the Killjoy single-handedly. Frank gave no acknowledgement he had heard, though his eyes were open, and Bright Moon whirled towards them. "What the hell is your problem?" she exclaimed, glaring at Bullet as he attempted to make the dazed boy stand, and then he stopped, staring at her like he was surprised.

Muttering curses under her breath and yet understanding that the Killjoy was too tired to hold him up, Moon gently grabbed Frank from him, gritting her teeth and lifting him up to sit beside where they'd laid the red head.

Dr. D stopped in front of them, frowning, and then gently took Frank's arm, looking over the bruising and watching him wince in pain as it was moved. It wasn't broken; sprained, but nothing more. "Ghoul? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah." Frank replied, blinking hard and then squinting like he was trying to remember something, glancing down and noticing Gerard's leg beside him, putting his hand on it. "Gee…"

Dr. D frowned, his attention on the gash on his head, and then he grabbed something from his bag, reaching up and putting a hand on the boy's cheek, turning his head to face him again and shining a light into each of his eyes. He cringed away from it but was forced to keep still as the Doc flicked it on and off multiple times on both before releasing him and setting the small flashlight down.

"Is he okay?" Skye murmured, coming over to them and crossing her arms.

"He's got a concussion…" Dr. D began to reach for something else, frowning as he heard a soft mumble. "Frankie…"

"Party?" Skye began.

Gerard blinked, turning his head towards the distorted figure beside him. "Gotta…we've…Frankie…?"

Frank frowned and then looked at him, grabbing his hand. "I'm here."

"Korse…BLI…they're…the city…gotta get away…"

"What?" Frank gawked at him, already having a difficult time understanding words that weren't slurred together.

Gerard squeezed his boyfriend's hand desperately, wishing his muddled brain would focus enough to form a complete sentence. "We have to go…" he murmured a bit louder. "There's a…there's a bomb…in the city…"

Dr. Death Defying froze, wondering immediately if he had heard right. "Party," he frowned, looking back to the Killjoy, and then repeated it when he didn't respond to the name.

"Gee," Frank whispered, and Gerard blinked again, managing to raise his head just slightly, seemingly just now noticing the Doc.

"What are you talking about?" Dr. D asked. "There's a bomb?"

The red head nodded frantically, wincing. "…Hour…no—less…"

"That's why they ran," the man mumbled, and then shook his head, turning his scooter around and raising his voice. "Hey!" He immediately had everyone's attention. "We need to move."

"Why?" Rainbow asked, and Dr. D looked at her, hesitant to tell her. They had all been adamant about assuring Battery City's safety, willing to give their lives fighting for its freedom. And now what was he asking them to do? Leave? Run away to save themselves? He was fairly positive that if they were aware that was the reason, they wouldn't be too thrilled about leaving.

He glanced at the red head, slumped back again and grimacing in pain as he struggled to stay awake, the Killjoy now leaning on him fighting the same battle, and then out at the others. They were all hurt, exhausted…and he didn't want to lose any of the rest of them. He simply wouldn't allow anyone else to die.

He couldn't.

"Just," he settled with, "follow my van. And keep up."

"Gee, c'mon, you've gotta drink something," Frank tried as he sat next to his boyfriend in the back of one of the other Killjoy's cars, driven by Show Pony, one arm tightly around him and the other hand holding a water bottle to his lips, yet the red head reacted to nothing, continuing to stare blankly at the seats, like they were the most intriguing things he'd ever seen.

"God damn it," Frank muttered. The twenty-four-year-old had been fading in and out of consciousness since they'd gotten in the car, and although Frank had been fighting sleep off, so had he. He couldn't help it. But it wasn't like it was surprising; no longer being in the building, at last being given water, and having Gerard in his arms—it was more comfort than he had felt in what seemed like forever.

"Gerard," he frowned, trying to do anything he could to wake him from the daze, "if you don't, Dr. D's gonna stick an I.V. in you when we stop."

Still nothing. DJ Hot Chimp briefly glanced back at them from the passenger seat.

"A needle, Gee."

Gerard flinched like he'd been struck. "Not again…please, not again…" he mumbled, and Frank winced, though was sort of contented to have gotten a reply. "To help; it wouldn't hurt you, I promise." He raised the bottle again, and this time Gerard drank, coughing once as he swallowed painfully, though it did seem to somewhat reorient him.

"That's it, see?" Frank murmured soothingly, kissing the top of his head.

"M-Mikey…?"

"Dr. D said he'll be fine," he replied. "His ankle is fractured and he's sick, but nothing deadly. And Ray's wound isn't too deep. They're both going to live."

"…I'm…" Gerard's eyes slipped shut again before he could finish, his head lowering onto Frank's shoulder, and the younger Killjoy capped the bottle with an exhausted sigh.

"You okay?" DJ asked at last.

Frank didn't answer for a moment, and then finally decided to settle for the absolute truth. "No."

"I'm sorry."

Frank frowned. "It wasn't your fault."

She sighed and looked away. "I still wish I could have done something about…I mean, I wish…" she trailed off and bit her lip, her eyes watering slightly.

Frank felt his own eyes began to sting, and he swallowed hard, blinking, fighting the tears back. Gerard stirred slightly, enough to move his hand and clasp it with Frank's.

Composing himself, at least for the moment, Frank put his back against the door, leaning him back in his arms and murmuring softly, "I love you, Gerard. No matter what happens, or what happened, I love you more than anything." He paused briefly. "You do hear me, don't you?"

"Mm," came a soft reply, if it could even be called that.

Frank smiled slightly as Gerard rested his head against his chest, seemingly content for the moment snuggled against him, then blinked hard, the vibrations of the vehicle numbing.

DJ glanced back at them again, clearing her throat. "We managed to find clothes at one of the warehouses we stopped at, so…you can change when we…when we find a place to stay."

Frank didn't know if he could ever express how grateful he was for those words. He wanted nothing to do with what he was wearing at the moment, for more reasons than just them being filthy. Then, almost at once, he began thinking about what he prayed wouldn't happen. He wasn't sure if the whole conversation between himself, Gerard, and the Doc had actually occured or been part of some illusion caused by his concussion. It certainly felt like it, and he certainly hoped that's all it had been. But if it hadn't…

We're running away. We're fucking abandoning them. All those innocent people…

He trembled, the mere thought upsetting enough to make him cry.

But I can't. Not now.

He had to be strong; for Gerard, for everything they'd gone through, for the sake of his own fucking sanity, he had to be strong.

Unfortunately that was much easier said than done.

Wasn't everything, though?

"I'm sorry, Gerard," he whispered, kissing the top of his head. And Missile…God, I'm so sorry…

There was an earsplitting crack in the distance, and all of them flinched. Pony slammed his foot on the breaks in shock, almost causing the car behind them to crash into them, swerving to the side before stopping as well.

Frank immediately turned, despite knowing he probably shouldn't have, and let out a cry as he saw a very vague orange light in the distance, immediately panicking.

They're dead. Everyone's dead.

"Frank…" Gerard mumbled, his eyes suddenly open and widened in absolute terror, and Frank tightened his grip, not allowing him to move as he squirmed desperately and tried to sit up, refusing to let him see, squeezing his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the ache in his head and his heart. Dead. They're all dead…we were supposed to save them…they never even expected anything…we failed them. Oh my God, we failed them all…

He was just too tired to fight anymore; against his exhaustion, his fear—anything. And that very much included the tears he'd been holding back for hours, which began to seep out from behind his eyelids and flow down his cheeks.

He heard DJ say something, her tone shocked, but did not make out what the words were. He felt Gerard give up his feeble struggles, going still and giving a soft groan before drifting back into an unavoidable slumber.

Then he was aware of nothing.