“This is ridiculous and you know it.”
Did you miss me? I certainly missed you! Have you been working out? Yup, there is a DEFINITE change there. Ooh, lovely.
Okay back to bizzimashizz. Sorry, ever since I got home I’ve been acting a little strange. Probably because it’s Christmas and, well, you know me; ‘tis the season to be hyper XD. So hopefully this one will be worth the wait, for those of you actually waiting. Right then. Let’s get going once again.
“We need to find out who my donor is.”
What did that mean? Frank didn’t know, and he certainly didn’t want to know what was going through his friend’s head at the time. When he ran into the corridor. When he banged on the door screaming. When he passed out.
There was something wrong, and Frank could sniff it around Gerard like a bloodhound every time he saw him. Not to mention how Gerard had taken to board up the windows of his apartment and lock himself in the dark with a towel tied around his eyes.
“This is ridiculous and you know it.”
Gerard turned in the bed and scowled at him before shrinking back under the duvet.
“Take the towel off your face,” Frank snapped again. Gerard shook his head defiantly and pulled the pillow over his head this time.
“Gerard!” He made his way across the dark room and perched on the mattress next to the lump that was his sulking friend. He paused for a moment before smacking Gerard hard on the ass. Gerard yelped and appeared out of the tangled mass of duvet looking apparently very disgruntled.
“What is your problem?” he grumbled.
Frank sighed. “What’s yours? Ever since surgery you’ve been hiding something from me – from all of us! And now you’re hiding like a mole in your hole with a freakin’ towel over the eyes you’ve wanted for half your life. Just take it off; you look like a moron.”
Frank made to grab at the towel but Gerard squirmed out of reach. He tried again but Gerard kept resisting, swatting his hands away or diving in the opposite direction.
“Go away!” Gerard squealed, when Frank had finally managed to yank the towel off him and roared in triumph. As soon as the towel disappeared he instantly slapped his hands over his eyes and scrunched his face up like a six year old whose sweets had been taken off him. “You’re such an asshole!”
“Why are you covering up your face? C’mon Gerard, this is just stupid.”
Gerard sighed and dropped his hands in defeat. He scowled at Frank so hard the term ‘if looks could kill...’ couldn’t help but enter Frank’s head.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Gerard bit his lip and for the first time Frank could see the fear reflected in his perfect features. His heart wrenched.
“Every time I open my eyes I see things I think only I can see,” he whispered.
Frank frowned and leaned forward slightly. “What kind of things?”
“...Bad things.” Gerard looked back up at him with tears in his eyes. “I just want it to go away. Don’t you get it? I need the nightmares to go away.”
Frank just stared. He was taken aback by how childlike he looked, how the whole thing seemed ridiculous at first but now he saw how it was affecting him. He was a victim in a nightmare that was only scary because they didn’t know what it was, or what had caused it. His face shone so pale and white and beautiful in the dark like it belonged to an angel and Frank felt a sudden bizarre urge to hug him, or cry for him, or do anything in his power to save him because he was the only one who could.
So that was what he was going to do.
“Okay,” he sighed.
Frank placed a hand on Gerard’s shoulder and resisted flinching away when he felt the sharp bones underneath his fingers. He was hardly eating. “We’re gonna stop it. We’ll find out what’s happened, and stop it.”
Gerard’s wide eyes searched his with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he offered a small smile which was enough to make Frank return a crooked grin back to him.
“But how?” Gerard suddenly asked. “It’s not like we can just walk into the hospital and ask for confidential reports.”
Frank raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Who said we’re gonna ask for them?”
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Mikey groaned.
Frank turned in his seat and glared at him. “This is for the benefit of your brother’s mental stability. Are you helping or not?”
“You did not include breaking into confidential hospital records when you said we were going to help Gerard!”
“I was in a hurry and couldn’t bother with the details.”
“But we’re committing a federal offence! Can you not see that?”
“Hey, I didn’t force you to come along!”
“That’s because you left out the part that the plan was AGAINST THE LAW.”
“HEY!” Ray bellowed. “Will you two please stop bitching? You’re giving me a migraine. Mikey, we said we would help Gerard by whatever means necessary. But that doesn’t mean we have to use whatever means necessary, Frank. Now this isn’t going to work if you two continue your cat fight. You either agree to disagree, or take it outside my car. We need to work as a team.”
Frank and Mikey fell into a sullen silence as Ray watched them like a God surveying his work with his arms crossed across his chest triumphantly.
“What’s the plan?” he turned to Gerard.
“The files will most likely be in my surgeon’s office. Obviously we can’t take them home with us, but if we quickly skim a few I’m sure we can pick out the necessary information.”
“But what exactly are you looking for?” asked Mikey.
Gerard shrugged and looked at him through the rear view mirror. “I’m not looking for anything. I just hope I’ll find something.”
“Well that makes perfect sense,” Mikey grumbled. The others pretended not to hear him.
“Right,” Frank said, checking his watch. “Visiting hours finish at eight so we have an hour to get in, find the scoop and get out. If the cops are on our asses we break out the back entrance, but if all runs smoothly I wanna meet by the vending machine at exactly 19:50 -”
“Why are you pretending this is Mission Impossible?” Gerard cut in.
Frank dropped his hand and a sheepish blush tinged his cheeks. The others sighed exasperatedly.
“Okay then.” Gerard opened the door and hopped out of the car, followed by the other three. “Let’s get this party started.”
They made their way to the hospital entrance as casually as they could, strutting through the corridors like they had every right in hell to be there. And they did. After all, they were ‘just visiting’. And contrary to Gerard’s constant worried thoughts and Mikey’s quiet muttering based upon how they’d end up in jail and tortured for information before being put into the electric chair, the remnants of the plan actually did run smoothly.
They stopped outside a door which had a gold plaque with the words, Dr Harold Brice, Chief of Surgery emblazoned upon it. Frank pressed his ear to the frosted glass window and listened.
After a few moments he nodded in satisfaction and stepped away from the door. “There’s no one in there.”
Ray’s eyebrows disappeared into his mass of curly hair. “Are you sure? He might be really quiet.”
Frank’s eyes turned into slits and he scowled at Ray like he’d just insulted his mother. “Don’t undermine my talents, Raymond.”
Gerard sighed again and pushed past the two. He stopped and looked the door up and down. “It’s 50/50,” he murmured. Then he took a deep breath and turned the door knob, stepping inside with his eyes squeezed shut.
When he opened his eyes he was pleasantly surprised to find that he was alone in the room. He turned back to the others. “Right, we’ll split up. Mikey, Ray, you guys go hang round there and keep watch. If Brice comes, distract him with the story of Frank’s bunion.”
“Hold up,” Mikey interrupted. “You have a bunion?”
Frank glared at Gerard. “Thanks for that. Remind me never to tell you any secrets regarding my physical deformity again.”
They watched the other two wonder off and lean against the walls in a ridiculous overly innocent manner. Gerard checked up and down the corridors for any witnesses before he slammed the door shut and breathed a sigh of relief.
Frank sauntered round the room and wolf whistled. “Nice office,” he said, caressing the polished wood of an expensive desk.
“Don’t touch anything,” Gerard growled. “We’re here to see my report and that’s it.”
They paused and looked around the room awkwardly.
“Um...” Frank murmured. “Where are the reports?”
Gerard scoped the office once again before finally spotting the set of grey cabinets in the corner. He grinned triumphantly and marched over to it, closely followed by Frank. There was a lock in the top right hand corner. The key was in the lock.
“God, how stupid can you get?” Frank muttered. He turned the key and the top draw slid open.
“Way...Way...Way...” Gerard fingered through the files one by one. “Bingo!”
He took out the file and laid it on the desk. “So far so good,” he said. “Let’s see what this baby has to offer.”
They opened the file and were instantly greeted by a full-on report of his surgery signed by Brice and Gerard himself at the bottom. He skimmed through the details and in realising it had nothing about his donor, turned the page exasperatedly. There was another record here, but this time it was as equally unhelpful as the one before it, and so was the one after and the one after that. Gerard ploughed through the pages growing ever more frustrated until finally he let out a vicious growl and slammed his fist on the table, huffing in fury.
He felt a hand on his back and he instantly relaxed. Frank appeared in the corner of his eye and he suddenly felt embarrassed about his outburst. He let his hair curtain his reddening cheeks.
“Hey,” Frank slipped Gerard’s hair behind his ear and looked at him. “We’ll find it, okay?”
Gerard nodded and blinked back angry tears. He mentally kicked himself for being born a frustrated-crier. But Frank still had hold of him and he leant a fraction closer till he could feel his breath on his cheeks.
“You’re eyes,” he said softly. “They’re hazel. I never noticed that before.”
Gerard let his head turn and suppressed the urge to jump back at the realisation of how close they were. “...Yeah...” was all he could manage to croak.
They said nothing. Frank’s face was unreadable for a few seconds which seemed like years to Gerard as he continued to gaze at him. Then it split into another reassuring smile and he took the file out of Gerard’s hands before opening it again and the moment was gone.
“Let’s see,” he began to flip through the pages. Gerard watched him wearily as he did so. “We got operation summaries, satisfaction surveys, contracts, bank records, but...no...donors...”
“Wait a second!”
Gerard snatched the file off his friend and flipped back a few pages that Frank had skipped. He stopped at the page where a certain word had caught his eye, a word he’d heard so many times before in his dreams that he finally knew what it meant.
“Richard Dawson,” he stated.
Frank frowned. “Richard Dawson?”
Gerard laid the file on the table for him to see and pointed at the title of the document. “Eye Donor.”
“You found it?” Frank leant over the file and began to read. “It says he worked here, at the hospital, before he died.”
“Does it say how?”
Frank skimmed another few lines. He frowned. “Suicide.” He looked up to see Gerard pacing the room in thought. “You alright there, Sherlock?”
“Why would he kill himself?” he replied. “What could have happened that was so bad he wanted to end his life and donate his organs?”
“Well, maybe he was depressed or something. Being a doctor might not have been so easy, especially with all the deaths,” Frank suggested. “And he worked here, right? So we could ask a few people that knew him. Maybe even Lindsey has a few secrets up her sleeve.”
Gerard scoffed. “Please. She’s the last person who’ll want to spill confidential information.” And then it hit him. He stopped mid step, the recognition flooding his features like a slap in the face. “He has a wife.”
Frank cocked his head to the side. “Need I ask how you know that?”
Gerard looked at him but his eyes were fogged over, as if he was in a trance. “Does it say anything about his address?”
“Yeah, uh...” Frank searched the document again. “42 Sycamore Terrace. Why?”
Gerard grabbed a Post-It from the desk and scribbled the address down onto it. “Because that’s where we’re going.”
It has come to my attention that this is turning into a parody with the occasional dash of drama. N’ah, well. R&R!