The first step to healing is understanding what's wrong with you. But will discovering his problem actually make the other Gerard disappear for good?
WARNINGS: Sadly ... none. Swearing. That is all.
Gerard walked down the hall to the door he had been instructed to knock on. Taking a deep breath, he lifted a hand and knocked once. Only once, if she didn't hear it, then it was her problem.
"Gerard Way I presume?" the dark-haired lady with horn-rimmed glasses asked as she opened up the door and looked him up and down.
"Yeah, that's me." He thought about making a run for it, there was no way this could end well.
"Come in, come in. Take a seat," she waved a hand through the door gesturing that he could enter. Once inside she did the same sweeping hand movement to signal that he was to take a seat on the cozy looking lounge that sat against the wall. A typical psychiatrist’s office.
He sat down on the lounge and moved around continuously until he found a spot that was comfortable, he could see the lady watching his movements carefully, she already had a pen and paper out, ready to write down all his little ticks and tricks.
"So Mr. Way -"
"Gerard is fine," he quickly interrupted, he couldn't stand pointless formalities.
She laughed. "Okay, Gerard. I'm Mrs. Florence and you can call me Linda. I see here, from your file that your Doctor recommended this visit ... tossing and turning in your sleep, shouting, unexplained drowsiness and you even recently slipped into a coma."
"That sounds about right," he nodded calmly.
He had promised himself he wouldn't get to anal about all of this. He had seen psychiatrists before about his drinking problem, it was no big deal, hell, maybe this women could even help him understand what was wrong with him.
"Well, basically Gerard I'm going to take this time to talk to you, get to know you a little better, perhaps even come to a conclusion about what could possibly be the matter with you," she said cheerily as she picked up the pen and scribbled something down on the top of the page.
"Do you tell anyone what I tell you in here?" he asked, not really caring at the moment, but perhaps later it would bother him, if he let too much slip out. He was tired after all, not having slept since waking up from the coma.
"If you have a long-term psychological problem then yes, your family will be notified," she explained.
It was clear this women was no beat around the bush kind of gal, she was going to give everything to him straight. This wasn’t so bad ... yet. But her words hit hard "A long-term psychological problem". Was he going to be like this forever?
"Yeah, I thought as much."
"That going to be a problem for you Gerard? It was your family that convinced you to take this visit wasn't it?" she asked, glancing at him over the top of her glasses.
"Yeah, my wife ... if I didn't she promised to never let me sleep again," he explained.
It had been two days since he had woken up from his coma, the doctors had studied him long and hard but couldn't find anything wrong with his body. That was when they did the brain scan and the results had been fairly bad. There was something there, something that shouldn't be. Not a tumor or some cancerous growth, just some over-abundance of chemicals that usually meant you were insane.
He kept it to himself, Frank and Mikey were so excited to have him up and talking again that they didn't bother asking questions like "What happened to you?". Lindsey did though and that was why he told her about the brain scan and the dreams and that was why she convinced him to see the shrink.
"So you're married then ... tell me about her," she asked, jumping right into it.
Gerard sighed loudly, he hated these questions, he already knew what was wrong with him, he didn't have to analyze everything in his whole life.
"She's hot and she's good in bed ... I dunno, what do you want me to say?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders. The horn-rimmed lady scribbled down a few notes.
"How'd you meet? Why did you decide that she was the one? How was the wedding?" she said, giving him a few examples.
He thought back. "I met her when our band first started out; I had a pretty big crush on her at the time but didn't really do anything about it because we were both in relationships. Her band gave us a good start and well, we kind of ventured off on our own after that. I was engaged to another women, that fell through and then next thing I know I saw Lindsey again; we were both single and bam we just got each other. I knew right then she was the one, I can't explain it ... we tour a lot see, so we married back-stage after a show one night ... that about sums it up."
"So it was sudden ... sort of unexpected? You met her straight after this other, much longer relationship ended you say?" the shrink questioned. Gerard lost his cool.
"Look ... my wife isn't the problem here okay, my problem is what happens when I sleep, not when I'm awake," he shot out angrily. More writing on the paper.
"Okay then Mr. Way -"
"Okay then Gerard. Tell me about these dreams."
"Well ... I see myself ... only blonde - I had blonde hair once you see, when we sort of took on these fake identities for the band, sort of like a play in the theatre, you know ..."
She raised her eyebrows clearly quite taken a back by his sudden quick talking. He stopped babbling about the band when he realised she didn't know what he was talking about, nor did she seem to care. "I see. So you're in a band then? Do you like it?"
"What? Erm, yeah, of course I do. It's my life, I love every moment of it ... we all do." He drifted off again, he wasn't sure he was comfortable discussing the band in front of her either.
"And you're in the band now? Still performing?"
"Well, we're kind of taking a break. We've basically been touring non stop for nearly six years -"
"Wow! That's a long time," she interrupted him. More writing on the paper in front of her. "Must be hard for you adjusting to normal life and all."
He shuffled awkwardly in his seat. "Yeah, it really is. Worst part is not waking up to see your three best friends and your brother every day. I mean, when you spend every waking and sleeping moment with them for six whole years, it gets kind of tough being -"
Gerard quickly cut himself off as he realised how much he was opening up to this women. Maybe he did need to talk to someone; it would certainly explain why he was suddenly spilling all his inner most thoughts to this complete stranger.
She scribbled something down onto the paper and circled it a couple of times, then she seemed to notice he had ceased talking and looked up at him curiously.
"It's okay Gerard, you can continue speaking, these notes are just for future reference," she explained with a smile. A forced smile, it made him cringe. He may need to talk to someone, but this lady wasn't who he wanted it to be.
"You know what? My band isn't the problem here either. Can we just get to the real issue?"
"Sure, yes, lets go back then shall we. Explain to me what's been happening in these dreams." She changed her tactic, clearly getting the hint. Gerard shuffled around in his seat again.
"Um - let's see ... At first I just heard his voice, then he sort of got clearer and clearer until I could see his face. Then we interacted more and more, we talk about stuff - personal stuff, life stuff ... it feels sort of realer than a dream, you know ...?" he inspected her closely, she was busy writing. Clearly she didn't know or perhaps she wasn't even paying attention to him. How many patients like him did she see a day? He continued anyway.
"So, that's when he started to hurt me."
She stopped writing and inspected him with raised eyebrows. "He hurt you? Physically? Explain what you mean by that?"
"Well, the first time, he hit me, but when I woke up it was actually Frank ... he's my guitarist, in the band I'm in, and he was trying to wake me up. Second time, he strangled me and Lindsey woke me up, I had passed out on the kitchen floor and was apparently struggling to breath. Then, finally, I had a few days where there was nothing and then it just hit me and I collapsed in the bathroom and well ... he was kissing me this time," he explained, embarrassed at having to discuss this part with a therapist.
"Kissing you? How was he kissing you?" she asked, looking interested now.
"What? I dunno ... well he's me isn't he? - So, he kissed me, like I kiss. I don't know, it's a stupid question!"
"Okay ... so what happened then?" she tried another question picking up on the fact he wasn't going to talk about that one any further.
"Huh? Oh yeah ... then, it wasn't so great anymore, I felt a pain in my chest and the kissing was different and next thing I know I'm getting CPR from Frank ... the guitarist, remember ... yeah, and then I woke up feeling really cold. Then I drifted off again, this time he stuck a needle in my arm to wake me up and it did, ‘cause I hate needles - and the doctor was sticking one in my arm ... and well that about brings me here."
There was a long silence as Gerard realised he had said all of this very fast. The shrink kept writing on the paper, she had almost filled up her second page. Was that good or bad? He wasn't sure. Scratching the back of his head nervously he waited for her to speak.
"Has this ever happened before?" she asked, finally looking back up at him.
He thought for a moment. "Not like this no. But he told me - should I give him a name? ... you know, to tell us apart - oh never mind ... anyway he told me that I had let him out before, and he wants to be let out again ..."
Gerard stopped and rubbed at his nose nervously. He sounded like a whack job ... worst thing was, he was a whack job. She kept writing again and then she finally looked up.
"In answer to your question, no! I wouldn't give him a name, don't give him any sort of identity. Can you tell me what he's like ... this, other you?"
Gerard thought for a moment. "Well, he's theatrical, sort of like I am when I'm on stage. He's louder, confident. He doesn't seem to show emotion or care about anyone else but himself, or ourselves ... however you put it. He seems to demand perfection, he knows everything about me as he, well he is me and he's angry. Like, he can get so angry, so quickly."
More scribbling, this time long, too long, Gerard almost cried out in frustration, merely at the noise the pen was making on the paper.
"Well Gerard, I think it's clear what the problem is," she suddenly announced, taking off her glasses and cleaning them with a tissue from the box on her desk. "I do believe you have a mild case of schizophrenia. It doesn't sound too serious yet, not to the point where you're being over-run by this other personality or actually physically hurting yourself. Still, it needs to be dealt with."
There was a pause, a long pause. Gerard realised that it was probably best he said something.
"Oh ... well, I kind of figured that ... but hearing it is certainly a little different. Wow - so now what?"
"I'd definitely like to talk to you a little more, see if we can't see where this problem may have started. For now I will prescribe you the usual medication just to help you sleep and hopefully keep your personalities in check."
The way she said it made Gerard feel slightly queasy, so simple, that's what it all sounded like, but it wasn't simple. How could it be? He had a mental illness. What was he going to tell the band? What would the fans think? This was sure to get out eventually.
"No thanks ... I don't take pills, not for a long while now," he said, crossing his arms across his chest in protest.
"I can assure you Gerard that it is in your best interest to take -"
"And I just told you that I don't want to take them!" he interrupted, getting angrier now.
Truth was, he was tired and cranky. He hadn't slept in two days for fear of what would happen to him, but what were these pills going to do? He had no good experiences with any type of medication, he could already tell he wouldn't like the way they would make him feel.
"So ... we done here now?" he asked when she didn't respond to his statement.
"Yes ... I think we're done for today," she replied, smiling as she looked up from what she had just been writing. He didn't like the way she said it, but he quickly left without to much more fuss.
He knew that someone would no doubt be waiting in his room, his friends and family knew how much he hated to be on his own, so they would have made sure someone was there for him when he got back from his session. Yet, he wasn't keen to go back there just yet, his smokes were buried in the pocket of the track suit pants he was wearing, so he quickly ducked out into the courtyard and lit one up.
The courtyard had only a few other occupants, a family, a man amongst them was dressed in hospital robes, Gerard was lucky enough to be dressed in casual clothes at least. They wouldn't allow him to go home, not just yet, they needed to keep him monitored, but that didn't stop him from doing what he wanted to do. He didn't want to walk around in one of those stupid robes looking like someone from the Smashing Pumpkins; he just wanted to be normal.
At least you're not dying like he probably is, he told himself as he watched the smallest child in the family hug the man in the hospital robes leg. The man was puffing away on a cigarette, trying to keep it a good distance away from his clingy child; the man didn't look too well at all.
He rubbed his tired eyes and shook his head just to make sure he was still awake. The last thing he wanted to do was drift off to sleep out here in the courtyard, he needed to prove he wasn't going to slip into a coma again; he really just wanted to go home.
"So you're officially insane then?" a familiar voice asked, Gerard spun around, his heart hammering into his chest as he found himself, once again face to face with his blonde alter ego.
"What the fuck?"
He glanced at the cigarette in his hand ... he could taste it, the family had left the courtyard and he was alone now, but he could still see people casually walking around the halls back inside the hospital.
"What's wrong?" the blonde asked, screwing up his face in confusion. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Gerard realised his mouth was hanging open, his cigarette abandoned. He couldn't help it. He knew now he was officially loosing it, this wasn't a dream anymore, this was real!
"Y - you're ... but how can you be here? I'm awake ... I - I'm not dreaming," Gerard stuttered, trying to shake the figure from his head. No where was safe anymore.
The blonde looked around, puzzled. "Hmm, so it seems. Wow!" he didn't look as excited as he sounded, merely bored. "Did you notice I got a hair cut?"
"What?" Gerard asked, still trying to figure out what was happening, his mirror-imaged self didn't seem at all fazed.
Sure enough, Gerard took in his appearance and noticed that indeed the other him had received a hair cut. His blonde, almost white hair was as short as it had once been when they had first performed for The Black Parade.
"I'm hurt and deeply offended that you didn't notice," the other Gerard said, bowing his head and placing one black-gloved hand over his heart.
"Who gave it to you? And who gave you those gloves?" Gerard was recovering from his surprise; he should have known something like this would have to happen sooner or later.
"Hmmm ... dunno. Guess you did," he explained, inspecting the gloves and nodding in approval. "One thing I can say Gee, you certainly do have good fashion sense."
"This isn't happening to me," he moaned, tearing his eyes away from the very real twin in front of him and turning around so he could walk shakily away.
"Wait Gee! You can't walk away from me. I have to talk to you about Frank," the blonde announced and Gerard felt a gloved hand slap itself on his shoulder and spin him around roughly.
"Stop it! You're not here ... you're not even fucking real. People are going to see us," Gerard shouted in paranoia as he looked around making sure no one could see him talking to this person that they no doubt wouldn't be able to see.
"Then stop talking and just listen!" the blonde stated simply. Gerard sighed and sat himself down on the bench. What else was there to do?
"What do you -"
"Shhh! I said stop talking, you look like a crazy person," the other Gerard teased, Gerard didn't find it funny. "Okay ... what I wanted to say was what's wrong with your boy friend?"
"Huh?" Gerard looked confused. What was he talking about?
"Frank ... what's wrong with him? He looks distant since the accident, you need to speak to him alone," the blonde instructed, looking at his gloves and nodding in admiration.
"Don't tell me what to -"
"Stop your whining. I said I'm here to help and if you wont give in and let me take over again, then I'll just have to help you like I am," he explained, glancing at Gerard's cigarette. He reached out and took it, puffing on it for a second before exhaling smoke from his mouth.
Gerard shook the image from his head ... it wasn't real, it couldn't be real. Yet, there sat the blonde Gerard, inspecting the cigarette as though it was some sort of horrible tasting food.
"You're killing yourself for this shit? The cocaine was better," he complained, tossing the cigarette to the ground and crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"Look, just fuck off and leave me alone. You're not helping alright; you're only making it worse -"
But the blonde raised a gloved hand, his face changing to one of panic as he pointed over Gerard's shoulder. "Busted!" he exclaimed.
Gerard spun around, his own face changing to that of panic as well when he saw Frank's small frame lingering rather awkwardly by the courtyard door.
His first though was, oh fuck!
He quickly spun back around to look to his other self for some sort of confirmation of what he was going to do now that he had been caught out talking to himself ... but the blonde was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey Gee," Frank said, raising one hand in a small wave as he still stood near the door.
The small guitarist looked around the vacant courtyard in slight confusion as though trying to find someone or something. Gerard had no doubt that his friend was looking for who ever he had just been speaking with. It was a shame that he wasn't real.
"H-how long have you been standing there?" Gerard asked the first real question that jumped into his head.
"Not that long," Frank explained, rubbing his arm nervously as though unsure of how best to approach his friend.
The butterflies were back in Gerard's stomach, but they didn't feel quite so pleasant this time. In fact, he knew if they didn't stop fluttering around soon that he was going to be violently ill, he just didn't feel so good.
"Sorry I didn't come straight back to the room ... I just really needed a smoke," he said, quickly changing the subject.
Frank smiled. "Hell yeah, I know how that feels." He smiled again, but his eyes still looked around awkwardly. It was as though he was actually hoping to see this imaginary person that Gerard saw.
"Frank - um ... I can explain..."
But he didn't. Gerard wasn't exactly sure if he should be sorry he was standing there talking to himself or whether he should feel something else.
"You don't have to explain anything Gee ... Lynz just told me what the doctor told her," he smiled shyly but then seemed to look quite sad about something.
"Frankie - what's wrong?" Gerard asked.
The blonde was right, Frank had been acting a little differently lately, it was just that he was too busy trying to act like nothing was wrong with him to notice that the people around him were upset.
"Nothing Gee, don't worry. I'm just being stupid," Frank explained, forcing a smile and rubbing at his eyes as though he was exhausted. He moved in closer and sat himself down next to Gerard, on the bench that he and his alter-ego had just been arguing on.
"It's not stupid Frank. Why won't you tell me?" Gerard asked, passing Frank a cigarette as he pulled one out for himself. They lit up and both started puffing.
"I - I feel like this is all my fault," Frank finally spilled as he bit his lip nervously.
Gerard froze; he had not been expecting this. "Err, look Frank, whatever this is, it's definitely not your fault." But Frank didn't seem convinced.
"Gee ... you said my name! Over and over again ... it really freaked me out when I couldn't wake you up." Frank sniffed loudly, but he wasn't crying. It was merely the cold air that was probably beginning to get to him.
"I don't know what you mean. When was I saying your name? You mean when I was sleeping?"
Gerard suddenly realised that he mustn’t have been sleeping as heavily as he had thought. What if he had said something else out loud? Did Frank know that the whole argument in his dream had been over him?
"Yeah ... I went to check up on you, I noticed you were acting kind of funny. Jamia noticed to, you sort of looked at us strange, I dunno. So when I found you ... well you were mumbling about something and you were saying my name. Naturally, I tried to wake you up, but when I touched you, you sort of got worse, like you were fighting me or something and then ... you just stopped breathing and you went real rigid and real cold."
Frank's hazel eyes bore into Gerard's and the butterflies were back again. He looked away awkwardly. One thing was for sure, Frank wasn't helping him at the moment, the blonde had been right, he had some very deeply buried feelings for his friend. Feelings that he didn't even want to think about right now; he was crazy enough without having to add to it.
Hastily, Gerard shook his head. "Frank, that doesn't mean this is your fault. I was just dreaming, I probably heard your voice and was just, I dunno, trying to talk to you or something," he lied, still not quite able to make eye contact with him.
"I - I'm just glad you're still alive," Frank explained and Gerard felt one of his arms wrap itself around his shoulders.
The touch was just what he needed, it seemed to be all that he needed and something in his head was screaming out to him, telling him to grab Frank, pull him down onto the bench and just -
"F-frank ... what did Lynz tell you?" he asked, distracting the thoughts that were racing around in his head. The blonde was winning, somehow it knew - all along, it knew how he felt about the raven haired guitarist.
He sniffed again, puffing on his cigarette as he removed his arm from Gerard's shoulders. "Um ... just that the psychiatrist thinks you may have split personalities."
Frank looked awkward, but he didn't back away in fear or look as though he wanted nothing more to do with Gerard or even that he was going to lock him away in a mental asylum. Somehow, this relieved Gerard to no end, he didn't want Frank to change around him, it would destroy him.
"Apparently it's not the kind that will send you a one way trip to crazy town ... if you know what I mean. You sort of developed it yourself as some sort of defense or a means to deal with things. She wants to put you on some sort of medication and see you regularly. She thinks she might just be able to help you," Frank said, clearly reciting word for word what Lindsey had told him that the psychiatrist had told her. It was all very confusing.
"She didn't tell me all that," he complained, suddenly feeling a little better at this news. It wasn't as bad as he thought it was ... not ideal, but he may just be able to get rid of his blonde-haired twin. How did Frank always manage to make him feel better?
"Yeah ... don't suppose she would have. I met her yesterday, accidentally bumped into her when I ran around the corner a bit too excitedly. Made her spill her coffee, she just glared at me ... she seemed like a real bitch," Frank explained, puffing on his cigarette.
Gerard laughed. He couldn't help himself, Frank just made him feel so much better. So what if he was loosing his mind, it could have been worse and at least he wasn't alone. He still had his brother, still had Lindsey and most importantly, he still had Frank.
"Did they tell you when I could get out of this place?" he questioned Frank, realizing just how much he was itching to get home.
"Na, they wouldn't say. I guess the sooner you start taking the pills and shit they prescribe for you, the sooner they can assess whether you should leave." Frank watched him closely, Gerard knew why. The only person other then Mikey that would truly understand his reluctance to take medication, no matter how good it was for him, was Frank.
"I figured you'd say that," he sighed.
"Yeah ... you know Gee ... maybe you should just try it," Frank said, sounding as though he was being forced to say it against his better judgment. "I mean, if it'll stop you looking like a crazy person, talking to yourself and shit." Frank smiled cheekily and Gerard felt himself blushing.
"So you did see that huh?" he asked sheepishly.
"Yeah ... I think that nurse in there is scared of you," Frank continued to joke as he pointed to a rather large lady who was watching them closely from her desk inside.
Gerard laughed again and suddenly, he didn't feel so bad about anything any more. "You know Frank ... if it'll get me the hell out of here, I'll take the stupid pills."
"That's the spirit," Frank chimed, slapping him playfully on the arm. "And hey Gee ... you know I'm here for you right? I - If you ever need to talk."
Gerard stamped out his cigarette and smiled at his friend. That seemed to be enough for Frank, nothing else needed to be said. And Gerard knew he could talk to Frank, would if he could. But, as Frank seemed to be the reason for all of his problems, there wasn't much he could say.
AN: So this one was a little light on the crazy. I just don't want to over do it, because it gets insane later on. LOL! Gerard really starts to loose it. Nevertheless, enjoy the peace whilst you can.
Just thought you would all enjoy a little down time. I think I'll post another chap. Just so you don't forget that this isn't a normal story. Muahahhaha, like you could. :)