FicWad

“What do you mean he’s on the Titanic?” Gerard asked with his hand seizing Frank’s arm.
“I don’t really know, that’s just what he said,” Frank replied looking briefly at his arm and wondering if Gerard was ever going to release his grip.
“What who said?” Bob asked standing and facing Frank as Ray crowded around too.
Frank took a small step back trying to ease out of Gerard’s ever tightening hold, but the hint was not taken.
“Gee, that’s gonna bruise, you know,” he nodded to his arm.
“Who did you speak to?” Gerard asked ignoring him.
Ray could see Frank’s discomfort and stepping around behind Gerard, reached over to peel his fingers from the guitarist’s arm. Frank offered Ray a grateful smile to Ray, while Gerard seemed oblivious to what had just happened.
“It was Lord Alverton. I’m amazed none of you could see him, he looked as solid as any of you guys.”
“Alverton!” Bob gasped. “His ghost? Here?”
Frank shrugged. He had seemed so real to him, it didn’t even seem to occur to him to be odd.
“Well, what did he say?” Ray prompted. “That was a pretty long conversation you had.”
“Well,” Frank began, “it seems we weren’t the only ones to notice how similar Mikey and Alverton looked. Lady Alverton took a shine to Mikey and, well…”
“Took him?” Bob asked.
Frank shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know how but, he’s with her. He says he’s coming back soon, I’m not so sure.”
“Why?” asked Gerard with concern.
“Well, he just said they discussed it and he told his wife to send him back. So he just assumes she will.”
“Huh!” Gerard flopped down into a chair. “I can’t say I’m all that convinced.”
“Apparently, she was particularly upset. A combination of Mikey looking like Alverton and that it’s his birthday today too.”
Ray looked up into the air above their heads.
“Er… happy birthday?” he said in an attempt to appease Alverton in the vain hope it might help somehow.
“Never mind happy fucking birthday!” Gerard snapped. “We’ve got to find a way to get Mikey back!”
“How?” Frank reasoned. “I mean it’s not like we can just pop back in time nearly a hundred years is it?”
“Get the owners on the phone! This must have happened before.”
“I seriously doubt it, Gee. They’ll think we’re just making it up.”
“Call them!”
“Okay, okay!” Frank tried to sound calm, but Gerard’s agitation was getting to them all.
“It’s nearly dawn and I have a horrible feeling that if we don’t get him back by then, we won’t get him back at all.”

*

Mikey had long since finished yelling; no one was listening to him. He’d shouted until he was hoarse and received no response at all. He doubted that anyone was even there. Now he sat on the tiny, and very uncomfortable bunk with his knees drawn up and his back resting against the wall. He glanced nervously at his watch; it was eight ten. He remembered visiting the Titanic Exhibition when it had been in New York. Most of the information, he freely admitted, he couldn’t recall, but there were a few significant details that now preyed on his mind. The ship had hit the iceberg sometime around eleven forty and the lower decks and filled rapidly. From the number of flights of stairs they had dragged him down, he presumed that he probably couldn’t be much lower in the ship without being underneath it. He checked his watch again – three and a half hours.

“Hey!” he yelled again. “Anyone?”
A large, well built man loomed into view as he walked down the narrow corridor.
“Stop shouting,” he snapped, “you’ll be heard well enough by the judge when we reach New York.”
“You’re not going to reach New York,” Mikey advised.
“Is that so?” the officer countered.
“In three and a half hours, you’re going to hit an iceberg. It’s going to do too much damage, the ship’s going to sink.”
The officer eyed him suspiciously.
“And where did you hear that nonsense?” he asked not taking his eyes from Mikey as if he were watching a card sharp cheating.
“I didn’t hear it, I know it!”
“So, you’re telling me that at…” the officer checked his watch before continuing in a disbelieving tone, “twelve forty, we’re going to strike a berg?”
“Eleven forty,” Mikey corrected.
“It’s nine ten, you said three and a half hours. Can you not even count?”
Mikey glanced urgently at his watch. For a few moments, the discrepancy confused him, and finally he realised.
“Daylight saving!” he cried. “I forgot! We only have two and a half hours.”
“You don’t impress me, mister! We have a full account of how you killed Lord Alverton and tried to attack Lady Alverton in their suite. We have no one on board unaccounted for, so I can only assume you’re a stowaway.”
“No,” he smirked in reply, “I’m Mikey Way.”
The officer curled his lip at the sarcastic reply but was certain of the last laugh.
“Well, Mikey Way, now you have a room of your own. Enjoy it, you’ll be in one similar to this for the rest of your life.”
Turning to leave, the officer turned his back on Mikey as he headed away. The rest of his life was only going to be two and a half short hours. He had to make him listen.
“Wait!”
Reaching quickly through the bars, Mikey pulled at the collar of his jacket and yanked him back towards the bars. Mikey had only intended to pull him back and try to reason with him, but, surprised by the action, he was dragged off balance and cracked his head hard on the bars either side of Mikey’s arm.
Mikey’s eyes widened in alarm, but knew he had to take advantage of the situation, he rifled through the officer’s pockets for a key. Unable to find one, Mikey could feel the panic rising inside him as he heard footsteps running to the officer’s aid.

“Officer Pitman!” one of the crew called.
Mikey looked up and pulled his hand back through the bars as four crew members approached and pulled the dazed form of Officer Pitman clear of the bars.
“It was an accident!” Mikey tried to explain, but he knew from the expressions on their faces that they didn’t even want to believe him.
“Oh, it’s far too easy for accidents to happen down here,” one of them mocked as he opened the cell door and all four stepped inside. Mikey, now on his feet, was forced backwards towards the opposite wall.
Staring at them, Mikey knew without question that they were more than ready for a fight and he could tell just by the looks on their faces that they thought his slender frame was an easy target. They stood between him and the open door of the cell. He would fight; fight for his very life.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N - sorry it's a short one, but it seemed a good place to stop ;)