My Chemical Romance and Fearless Vampire Killers cross over. ONE SHOT.- Mikey died twenty days ago, but can the past be rewritten with the help of a quirky man named Laurence Beveridge?
Hope you like this story!
-Caitlin (gh0stofyou on twitter, MCRmy_FRankie on here)
He smiles from beside me but I ignore him. The anger twisting in my stomach is burning hot, but I know that if I pay attention to that little face of his, I’ll instantly forgive him. And I know he knows this, because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t insist on looking at me like he is right now.
“Dude, it’s not the end of the world.” He sniggers. And that makes me even angrier because not only does he have the most perfect voice I’ve ever heard, but he knows how much our weekly coffee shop meetings mean to me, and to think he’s ditching me for his girlfriend-who I hate. Our meetings are the only time I can talk to someone who understands me (other than my councillor. She doesn’t count because I hate her).
I roll my eyes and look away out the window on the other side of the school bus.
“You look like an idiot pouting like that, you know.” He sniggers, and I end up crossing my arms pathetically across my chest like a hormonal woman. “Fine, if you keep on acting like this then I’ll cancel next week’s meeting too.”
“Shut the fuck up, will you?” I hiss. Oops. My eyes flicker onto his face for split second and suddenly I find myself smiling like a complete twat. His perfect porcelain skin glows flawlessly and his black hair lays in a silky mess on top of his head. The green of his eyes captures in the sunlight and it makes them glisten.
“I knew you weren’t really mad with me.” Frank laughs. “You never are.”
“You really do piss me off,” I grin “but who am I going to talk to now?”
He opens his mouth and I know he’s about to say ‘Mikey’ but he stops himself just in time. Because when I used to be upset and Frank wasn’t around to help, I’d turn to Mikey and so would Frank if I couldn’t help him. But we didn’t have Mikey anymore. I only had Frank, Ray and Bob. Mikey was the reason I needed to talk to someone every so often. Ever since the day Mikey died I haven’t spoken to Ray or Bob because they blame me for his death, and deep down, so do I. So now I only really have Frank (and my councillor, but like I said- she doesn’t count).
“Just go home tonight.” He says quietly. The atmosphere between us has completely changed in a matter of minutes. Any mention of my brother, and the air seems cold and the sky seems darker. That’s just how it is now. Maybe that’s how it’s always going to be because as much as we both hate to admit it; we haven’t been left unscarred by his death. We are all broken, everyone that knew him. He was innocent and he didn’t deserve his life to end so tragically.
The school day drags on. Every minute of first and second hour, the only thing I could think of was Mikey and the guilt begins to hurt my stomach. And I know that I wasn’t the cause of his death, but I know I could have prevented it. I should have seen that car coming. I was supposed to be the one to protect him, I always have been since the day he was born, but I failed. I let him step into the road before I could open my mouth to tell him to stop.
And then after break during third and fourth hour, the images and the sounds of his body impacting the windscreen wouldn’t leave my head. The way his body rolled up the bonnet then onto the floor. The sound of the glass smashing and the metal crushing and the unforgettable sound of him calling my name.
“Gerard.” he managed to croak after he hit the floor. His voice was pained and broken. And I’ll never forget what he said after that, when I had knelt by his side and took his smashed glasses from his face: “please don’t let me die.”
Then after lunch as the minutes of fifth and sixth our painfully ticked by, my memory wouldn’t shake the moment the doctor told us he hadn’t made it. We were waiting outside the operation room; mom and dad pacing back and forth, Frank right by my side holding my hand. I kept my head down low because dad kept shooting me these glares as if I was the guilty one. After about two hours, a doctor in a while coat approached us and sat down beside me. I covered my ears because I knew what the outcome was going to be. And Frank tighter hugging, and my mother’s heartbroken sobs confirmed it.
“My son, he’s…dead?!”
As I walk home in the rain, my brain fills with different memories of him: those trips to the beach where we buried dad in sand and watched as the sun slowly cooked him alive, watching movies on Friday nights until 5am because it was the week end the next day, sneaking out of the house when mom and dad were asleep so we could meet Frank in the park because we felt we were breaking the rules, going to gigs- just the two of us, and having the best nights of our lives, putting mom’s eyeliner on each other because we thought it was cool. Those were the best memories and I was certain I’d never forget them.
As I cross the road where Mikey was hit, I notice the flowers are still attached to the lamppost on the other side, wilting and brown. The petals slowly dropping to the ground one at a time. But as I get closer, I notice there is a new bunch of flowers standing out in the grey New Jersey weather. When I reach the other side of the road, I pick up the bunch of red and yellow flowers and look at the note attached. My heart lurches with an unsettling feeling as I realise the note is addressed to me:
Gerard, it didn’t have to end this way. Change it. -LB
The flowers drop from my hand and land in a muddy puddle. I stagger backwards and hit something behind me. In shock, I turn around to see a strange looking man with messy black hair swept across his forehead. His skin is ghostly white but dirty and unclean, and he has thick black make up around both his eyes. His clothes are strange: a dusty black blazer and a black pinstripe shirt with tight fitting black skinny jeans. My first thought is: this kid has issues. My second thought is: why is he smiling at me like that?
“Did you…did you write this?” I say, holding the note out in my shaky hand.
“Of course I did, you idiot.” He laughs in a very British accent and continues to grin at me.
“Well…Gerard isn’t dead. I’m Gerard and I’m still alive.” I say, forcing the note into his slightly less pale hands.
“I know who you are, Gerard. And I know that’s Mikey who died here. Jesus, lighten up a bit.”
“I’ve just had a really shitty day and you…you aren’t making it any better. Who the fuck are you, anyway?” I realise how stubborn I must be coming across my to be honest, I really don’t care. I just want to get home, drink a gallon of coffee then run down to the cemetery to visit my brother for a couple of hours.
“My name is Laurence Beveridge: time traveller, fearless vampire killer and all around awesome dude…well that’s what Dave referred to me as.” He says, trailing off into his own thoughts. “Can you tell me what the date is today?” he suddenly asks. I narrow my eyes and answer:
“April 6th 1994…why? Are you mental or something?”
“Doesn’t matter. Do you have a newspaper or…” he looks around frantically and spots a folded newspaper sitting on bench at a bus stop. He quickly reaches over and grabs it then returns to me, holding up the newspaper showing me the headline on the front page in big bold letters: “NIRVANA DRUMMER, DAVE GROHL, SAVES LEGEND AND LONG-TIME BEST FRIEND.”
He mumbles: “Good old Dave, I knew he could do it.” then clears his throat and begins to read: “Dave Grohl, drummer of legendary grunge band Nirvana, stopped his long-time best friend Kurt Cobain, lead vocalist and guitar player of Nirvana, from an alleged suicide attempt by breaking into his best friend’s home in Lake Washington, retrieving a gun and handing it into police. Grohl went on to say ‘As soon as he went missing, I knew something was wrong. Of course I had a friend to help, but I’m just glad he is safe and will be able to get further help now that we knew what his intentions were.’
[/ When Grohl was asked who had helped him find Cobain, he just said ‘just an all-around awesome dude I know. I owe him a lot.’ Cobain, father of one, told our journalist that he had not told anybody his plans to end his life, but Grohl seems intent on keeping his friend’s identity a secret. Whoever this mysterious friend is, and wherever he is right now, it is clear that there are many people grateful for what he has done. Cobain’s wife went on to say ‘I am greatful that Kurt is safe.’ But refused to say anything further.
[/Grohl is due to meet the president for his achievements in saving the life of a national treasure. It is clear that the music industry, and those close to him, would have lost an amazing and talented gentlemen. Cobain is now recovering from his ordeal in a secret location but it’s clear his condition has rapidly developed.”
“What are you trying to prove?” I ask as he lowers the newspaper from in front of his face.
“What I’m trying to say is that I can prevent your little brother from dying.”
“You can’t prevent him from dying, he’s already dead!” My voice is probably louder than is should be, considering this freak hasn’t actually done anything wrong. I’m just not used to talking about my brother. “You’re just some stalker freak who dresses like a twat. You’re delusional, dude. Now fuck off before I call the police!”
“Whoa…whoa calm down.” He says, putting up his hands as if to say he surrenders before I punch him in the throat.
“Do you really expect me to calm down? You were waiting for me here…I don’t even know who you are! You already knew my name and then you claim to have prevented Kurt Cobain from committing suicide which is stupid because he’d never do that anyway, and then you say you can stop my already-dead brother from dying. What are you on?!” My face is growing hot with anger and the embarrassment that I let myself flip out over some stranger in the street. I suddenly hate Frank even more for cancelling our meeting in the coffee shop today. If I was with him, this day might have been a bit more bearable.
“I never do this without consent but it’s for the best.” He mutters. The next thing I know, he grabs my hands and presses a button on the watch strapped tightly around his wrist. “Hold on!” he grins.
Before I pull my hand away, my head begins to spin. But…it isn’t my head…it’s the surroundings too. I find myself squeezing Laurence’s hand tighter. A streak of lightly flashes through the sky and I feel it enter my body and out the other side. My veins feel on fire. They are hot and tingly. A strange sensation I’ve never felt before. My eyes won’t stay still in my head and I can’t focus on what’s happened around me. It just looks like a bright white light surrounding us. The burning sensation reaches my brain and suddenly it’s too much for my body to handle. My limbs become weightless and my head feels light and fluffy as if I’m falling into the best sleep.
Then there is a loud bang, and all my senses get cut off. I feel as if I’m floating in nothing. I can’t see, hear or feel a thing, but I’m aware of my conscious mind as I’m trapped in the nothingness.
Well, what a day this has turned out to be.
“Wakey, wakey sleepy head.” A voice cuts through the blackness and I feel my body being pulled gently into reality. When I wake up, I find Laurence sitting beside me. His hair still a mess, his clothes even dustier.
“Where the fuck am I?” I sit up quickly to find myself in what looks like a forest and I realise I’m now covered in dust too.
“About fifty minutes from your house, in the forest... twenty eight days ago.” He grins, and jumps to his feet. I slowly climb to mine and my head begins to throb.
“Did you fucking drug me?” I spit.
“Of course not! We have travelled back in time!”
“You’re a complete twat, okay? Time travel doesn’t exist; get that into your head!”
“Gerard, you know the day your brother died, you took a longer route on the walk home, right?” he asks.
“Um…yeah we did. He wanted to talk to me about my birthday, which is in three days.” I state, crossing my arms across my chest. “How did you know that?”
“I do my research before taking on my clients.” He laughs. “What, do you think I turn out of the blue and help random people’s pasts? Nah! I’m saving your brother because in seven years, something will happen that will end innocent lives, and it’s going to make you want to make a difference. You’ll need Mikey when that time comes.”
“You talk utter bullshit.” I snap.
He looks down at his watch then out to the left, down the path, and spots something in the distance.
“Quick, you’re coming. You can’t intervene with your past self. You can only change the past indirectly, so hide!” he says excitedly. He grabs my arm and pulls me into a throne bush. I feel the thrones scratch against my skin and I’m about to swear loudly when a hand covers my mouth, preventing any sound from escaping too loudly. I frown at Laurence and he winks. As he takes his hand away, I see too boys walking a couple of metres in front of us…me…and…Mikey.
My mouth practically drops to my feet and I have to force my tears to stay in my eyes. I watch as we laugh and joke around. He pushes me and I nudge him back. I miss Mikey. I wanted to run out and tell them what they were heading for, but I know Laurence wouldn’t be too happy. So I let them walk past into Mikey’s upcoming inevitable tragic fate. No one could have predicted what happened in the next half an hour, when they were just three minutes from the safety of their…our…home.
As soon as they have left the woods for good, Laurence jumps out of the bush dragging me with him.
“So do you believe me now?” he asks with raised eye brows.
“I guess…but can you really save him?”
“No, no, no Gerard, I’m not going to save him…you are!”
“How the fuck do you expect me to do that? I’m not the fearless-time-traveller-vampire-killer or whatever! I’m just Gerard. I don’t save lives.” I snap.
He rolls his eyes. “Well, the driver of the car was drunk, right?” He says excitedly, straightening out his shirt and blazer.
“Well then we need to somehow prevent the driver from crossing your brother’s path at that exact moment your brother steps into the road.” He says, stroking his chin with his thumb and index finger. I have to admit, his quirkiness was starting to become less annoying and more entertaining-in a good way.
“We need to somehow slow him down, or stop his journey all together.”
“We can’t prevent his journey. They will mess with the future way too much. Like the time I prevented JFC from choking to death on a meatball when he was five. I changed the food that his maid was cooking, hid the meatballs so they had to have minced beef. I saw that in the future the whole of America literally turned to shit, so…I murdered him when the time was right. I just feel really bad for the guy that got the blame! But that’s another story.”
“You…killed…him?” I choke out. Not only was this strange British guy a lifesaving time traveller, he was also an assassin.
“Gerard, I’ve killed a lot of people. But only for the future of the world!” He laughs. Then his face turns more serious and he whispers: “It was me who killed Hitler.” And I feel even more colour drain from my already pale face. “Only kidding! That was a genuine suicide!” he laughs and I punch him jokily in the arm.
We head out of the woods and I can see me and Mikey in the distance as they walk off down the high street. Closer and closer to the death of my only brother.
“Okay,” Laurence says, looking down at his watch “We have fifteen minutes until your brother dies. We need to reach Hillbury Street before the driver does.”
“Are you kidding? That’s a good half an hour walk!” I say angrily. This guy really doesn’t plan these things very well, does he?
“We’re going to run! And we’re taking the back streets to avoid being seen by the past you. If the past Gerard Way sees you, I’ll have to kill you.” and he laughs over enthusiastically.
Before I manage to say another word, he’s already grabbed my arm and pulled me along the road and down a dingy ally way behind all the high street shops. The ground is squelchy and brown, but Laurence seems to be making me run too fast to be able to slip properly.
“Can…can anyone see us?” I cough as we run. My chest begins to hurt and I ignore the asthmatic coughs trying to escape my lungs. My brother’s health is way more important than mine right now.
“Of course they can!” he laughs as if I’m some sort of prize idiot. “This way.” He yanks my arm so hard I actually thought it had come out of its socket and I realise we are on Hillbury Street -one of the dodgiest streets in Belleville.
We stop on the sidewalk, panting for breath and Laurence looks at his watch again.
“Okay, we have two minutes until the car comes past, do you remember what it looks like, Gerard?” Laurence asks.
“It’s a red Volvo. Very old and rusty. The bumper was falling off a bit and the windows were very dirty. I think the exhaust pipe was hanging off and dragged along on the road as it moved.”
Laurence doesn’t answer, he just steps closer to the curb, pulling me with him. He places a hand on my back and I look away from him, down the road to where Mikey is going to die. And for a second I thought I saw us approaching to cross the road it we weren’t. Too early and the car hadn’t even-
“GO!” Laurence yells, shoving me into the middle of the road. It takes me all of two seconds to realise there is a car coming straight at me. The driver doesn’t make an attempt to brake, instead he swerves around me, pushing down on the acceleration and speeding faster towards the place where Mikey was to die.
The car zooms ahead and I see Mikey approaching the road. I’m seconds from screaming out for him, in a last attempt to save my little brother, when Laurence grabs me and pulls me back into the ally way.
“What have I told you about interfering directly with the past!” he snaps.
“It didn’t work. He’s going to die, all of this was pointless!” I sob; the tears begin rolling down my face, gently burning my skin. “We didn’t do it. I let my little brother down again.” Laurence looks at me with so much sorrow and remorse that I almost begin feeling sorry for him. His small eyes seem even smaller amidst his black eye makeup. “All I wanted to do was save him. I couldn’t even do that. I’m a failure.” I mumble, and I look down at my feet as my body begins to shake with sadness.
And I look back at him and he’s smiling. The corners of his mouth are twitching up and his eyes have suddenly grown.
“Can you hear screaming? Or sirens of an ambulance? Or did you hear him smash against the windscreen?”
I bite my lip and furrow my brow. “I…guess not.” I say in confusion. I jump from out of the ally way and look down at where I should see my baby brother dying in my arms, but instead I see us on the other side of the road heading towards our house. Safe and alive.
“You did it. The car sped up fast enough that it passed Mikey before he had a change to step out!” Laurence laughs. I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly.
“Thank you so much.” I gasp, trying to contain my many emotions. “You have no idea how much this means to me. How can I repay you?”
"Don't worry about it!" he grins "It's what I do! Come on, let's get you back to present day." he says, and he takes my hand. "Try not to pass out this time!" he giggles and I close my eyes tightly.
I hear the beep of his watch and then I feel the earth spinning under my feet, and my mind spinning in the opposite direction. The lightning ignites my bones and this time it feels comforting. The brightness surrounding me doesn't feel intimidating this time, but welcoming and comfortable. My body suddenly becomes light as if I'm consumed in feathers and the cotton wool sensation makes me feel drunk.
When I'm sure my feet are firmly on the ground, I open my eyes and find myself in the exact position I was in when I first met Laurence: standing by the lamppost with a muddy puddle by my feet. Although for some reason the sky seems brighter and everything feels more relaxed. He smiles at me and quickly grabs a newspaper lying on a bench at the bus stop, tossing it into my hands. I glance down at the date on the top of the newspaper: 6th April, 1994 and the headline: “NIRVANA DRUMMER, DAVE GROHL, SAVES LEGEND AND LONG-TIME BEST FRIEND”. Three days before my birthday. Twenty eight days since Mikey should have been killed.
"Mikey's supposed to be alive, so where is he?" I ask suddenly.
"He's coming. I can hear his footsteps." Laurence says kindly in his quirky British accent. "It's time for me to get the hell outta here. My next trip is a stop in 2004. I'm visiting a man named Frank Iero to make him hide a couple of boxes of pills. I think you'll be thankful for it when the time comes." and with that, he presses a button on his watch.
"Frank Iero...wait, what? My Frankie?" I choke out, but when I look up, he's already gone and I ignore the thought until it’s no longer in my mind.
A small piece of paper rolls across my foot and I pick it up.
Stay beautiful; keep it ugly, my friend. -LB
The note makes me smile so fold it in two and put it in the pocket of my skinny jeans, just as someone approaches me from behind.
"Dude, why did you run away?" he laughs. I turn around and it's Mikey who is standing there, tall, lanky and...alive. I can't help but throw my arms around his waist and he hugs me back awkwardly out of confusion.
"Sorry, bro." I smile as I pull away, trying to keep the tears from spilling down my cheeks. Happy tears nonetheless.
I fold the newspaper up and shove it into my rucksacks.
"I could really do with a coffee right now." I sigh.
"Me too!" Mikey grins from under his glasses. We begin to walk home and Mikey begins to go on about how he has just decided that he wants to take up bass or something, but I’m not really listening to a word he says because I'm too overwhelmed with happiness that he's still alive, and Laurence Beveridge helped me save him.