Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > But I can fix you!

Chapter 15: Who did this to you?

by padfoot_001 7 reviews

Things are finaly looking up for Gerard, or are they? As things become more complcated, he realises things aren't exactally what they should be. Is he loosing his mind all over again? Is the blonde...

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama,Fantasy - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way - Published: 2008-08-20 - Updated: 2008-08-20 - 4270 words

Disclaimer: I don't own My Chem, but I do, however, own the story line. So please do not steal without permission.

WARNINGS: Swearing ... Umm ... sexual incinuation, so be warned, and that's probably about it besides insanity. That is a major warning. LOL!

To my reviewers: This is long overdue. I love you all, please stay with me. You're to loyal, I don't deserve you. :)

Chapter Fifteen

Gerard lay on the soft grass feeling warm, feeling comfortable. In fact, he felt so numb, so relaxed, he wasn't sure if he would ever move again, nor if he actually wanted to. It felt so good, almost as though he was in one of the deepest sleeps he had ever been in.

Sighing as he realised just how content he felt, he realised that the warmth was coming from the sun, which shone brightly above him in a perfectly blue sky. White fluffy clouds appeared here and there, always just in the right spots; it was all nothing short of perfection.



Gerard sat up as he heard the yell and immediately felt a sharp, intense pain split across his temple as he was smacked in the head by something that had clearly been hit with intense force.

He let out a piercing cry as his brain seemed to get knocked around in his head by the force of the impact. Clutching at the offending spot, he moved his hands away every now and again, only to look at them to make sure he wasn't bleeding.

"Ouch ... shit, that had to have hurt!"

Still wincing and moaning at the pain, Gerard looked up into the aviator covered eyes of his blonde-headed twin. There he stood, towering above him, Black Parade clothes, skeletal gloves, one hand on his hip, the other holding a golf club that he rested on his shoulder lazily. The sun shone behind his phony, apologetic smile and Gerard felt like punching it right off his pale face.

"What the fuck was that for?" he shouted, realizing that a small golf ball was sitting innocently in the grass by his side. It was clearly the cause of his still aching head.

"What?" the blonde questioned, looking seriously offended. "I yelled out four! Not my fault you were stupid enough to sit up."

Then, just like that. Gerard hurriedly took in his surroundings.

A golf course, he was at a golf course. But that wasn't what worried him. What worried him was that he couldn't remember when he had fallen asleep, where he had fallen asleep.

Sure, he had this same problem every time he woke up in this dream world, but this was different. Something told him he wasn't curled up in a bed somewhere. Something told him that the state of his body wasn't how it should be. Something was definitely wrong.

"Oh shit!" he shouted as he pushed himself off the ground. His head spun wildly as the impact of the golf ball was somehow still affecting him. Must have been some swing!

"Woah! Steady on," the blonde explained, reaching out hands to help him stay on his feet. "What are you like drunk or something?"

Gerard just stared at him in disbelief, yet grateful for the help so he could remain on solid ground.

"No, I'm not drunk! You hit me remember!"

The blonde smirked. "Oh yeah."

Again, Gerard clutched at his head, the pain still there, feeling so real. He had to remember where he was, he had to think.

"Golf course ... you are at a golf course. I thought it would be a nice day out for us," the blonde explained smugly as though he was certain he was being helpful.

"I can see that," Gerard announced, he was getting impatient as he was suddenly extremely worried for his well-being. "What I meant was I need to remember where I was when I fell asleep."

"Oh! Guess I can't read your every thought then." The other Gerard lowered his club and took a swing at the grass, several blades of it flying off in all directions.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Gerard cursed as he paced around forcing himself to remember. "Did I make it home? I don't remember seeing Lindsey, I don't remember calling Jamia and telling her I was alright. I don't even remember seeing my house or parking the car. SHIT!"

"Man, you worry way to much!" the blonde said, taking another swing as he clearly was no where near as concerned as Gerard was.

Gerard tried to calm himself down, but something told him that he should be worried. The ache in his head that wouldn't go away, disorientation, unexplainable warmth, complete relaxation, not to mention the world was still comfortably spinning. It was almost as though he didn't have to worry about waking up. He would sleep forever.

"Oh fuck! I think I'm dead!"

The blonde doubled over in laughter. "Oh my god, you're such a drama queen. You're not dead Gee. I'd know it if you were."


"I don't know ... I'd just feel ... different I guess."

The other Gerard thought about it for a second or two and then began patting his pants as though looking for something in his pockets.

Intrigued, Gerard watched him closely.

"Those pants didn't have pockets," he explained matter-of-factly, remembering when he had to wear them for the performance of "The Black Parade". He hated that he couldn't even put his phone in them.

"Huh? Who said anything about pockets?"

"Well, what are you doing then?"

The blonde stared in confusion. "I - I feel strange."

Gerard looked on in alarm. "What do you mean you feel strange?"

"You don't feel anything?" the blonde asked, eyes widening in horror.

"Feel what? What am I supposed to be feeling?" Gerard looked around as though trying to find someone, anyone that could help him, help them, but there was no one else on the entire golf circuit and something was definitely not right if his imaginary other self felt off.

Once again the blonde stopped what he was doing and doubled over in a fit of laughter.

"Oh fuck Gerard, you should have seen your face!"

He continued laughing. That high pitched, familiar laugh that Gerard recognised as his own. He hadn't laughed like that in the real world in a long time. Now he doubted he ever would if he couldn't even remember where the hell he was.

"You think this is funny?" Gerard questioned in a raised voice. He was furious; the blonde had really scared him.

The other Gerard stopped, clearly thinking. "Well, actually. Yeah I do!"

"I could be dead! We could be dead! Stop laughing!"

"But I - I can't," the blonde said. Then, suddenly, he did stop. His eyes seemed to widen in amusement as he felt around his pants again, as though trying to find his car keys or something.

"WHAT? Stop that!" Gerard was getting very impatient with him.

"Gee ... I think I'm drunk!"

Then the laughter started again. Something in Gerard seemed to snap and he growled furiously as he leapt at The Black Parade version of himself. The blonde caught Gerard almost as though he had been anticipating the move. The two of them tumbled to the grass and rolled around lazily until, miraculously, Gerard managed to get the upper hand.

Somehow, he had achieved the impossible, he had positioned himself on top of the blonde, hands pinning down the others hands and legs on either side of his hips so that he really had no where else to go. But what he saw made his breath catch in his throat and his grip loosen.

Somewhere in the rolling mess of the two Gerard’s, the blonde had managed to lose his aviators and Gerard stared at his now sunglasses less face in shock and confusion.

"What the hell happened to you?" Gerard questioned his double.

"Oh ... you mean this little thing?" the blonde asked, seemingly catching on to what Gerard was talking about. Was it his imagination or did his mirror image look slightly panicky now?

Gerard continued to stare in shock. His face, his blonde hair, this other him was him, yet there was something different, something very wrong. His face was bruised and swollen. His lip was split, his check was bruised badly and one of his eyes was half closed and bloodshot as the beginnings of a black-eye were quite evident there.

"I - I fell over and hit my face on the door-knob," the blonde explained as he shrugged. The cliché explanation a beaten child may have used.

As though suddenly realizing something, Gerard lifted hands away from the blonde to feel at his own face, as though he to had the same injuries; but he couldn't feel any disfigurements there.

"I don't understand ... how did this happen?"

Gerard was actually quite surprised to realize he was concerned for his twin. How could he be concerned for something that wasn't even real? Why did he care?

The blonde bit his lip but winced as he munched down on the injury that was there. His tough, firm, sarcastic demeanor was gone, this other Gerard now looked like a victim of abuse, a child even, trying to hide what had really happened to him from his parents.

"I don't know," the blonde explained, confusion lining his face, but Gerard knew that, much like himself, this was the only answer he could give him.

You're asking the wrong question again.

"I'm asking the wrong question," Gerard repeated, remembering the words the blonde had used many times before.

The blonde grinned, once again, reminding Gerard of a small child. He seemed thrilled that Gerard was finally beginning to understand him.

Thinking hard, Gerard seemed to find the right question. He lowered his face so it was inches from his blonde-haired, beaten self and he asked, sure he already knew the answer.

"W-who did this to you?"

The blonde blinked and out of Gerard's peripherals, he saw one of his arms move. He braced himself, sure he was going to get a punch across the face. He was, after all, still straddling the blonde, pinning him to the warm grass, there was no doubt that he wouldn't like him having the upper hand. But the blonde's gloved hand merely stroked Gerard's check gently.

"You did," he answered, continuing to stroke Gerard's face in what was unmistakably affection.

Immediately, Gerard knew it was true. But he didn't understand. Sure, he had a million reasons to beat the other him up, but never could he be that strong, never could he cause that much damage to anyone, even if the person wasn't real. What the hell was going on?

He stood as though he had been shot. Shocked and stumbling, he turned away, breathing heavily; afraid of what was happening to him. Then he saw it - faint, but just visible enough to make him notice. A figure, dark and shadowy. There one minute, gone the next. So fast it could have been a trick of the light, but he could have sworn that in the darkness of the figures face he had seen those eyes ... his eyes. It was just like the image on the pirate ship only this time it happened so fast it could have been a mistake.

The blonde continued to lie on the grass, whistling a tune happily as though their conversation had never happened.

"There is nothing you can do that I have not already done to myself, no there is nothing you can do that I have not already done to myself," the blonde began to sing, taping a beat onto his leg with the eerily fitting words.

Gerard turned around. More questions filling his head, more things he desperately needed to ask, but the blonde wasn't there, the golf course wasn't there, nothing was there. It was a black and empty void and he was suddenly aware that he had lost his footing and once again, he was falling.

Falling through the darkness, falling through emptiness, falling through nothing.


"Put him on his side Frank, I think he's going to puke again!"

"There can't be anything left Mikey! He didn't stop throwing up the whole way over here!"

"Seriously? Man ... what happened? I mean, how did you even find him?"

"Long story Mikes; I don't even know where to begin -"

There was a painful moan that pierced the air and it took Gerard a few moments before he realised that the sound had actually been made by himself. The blackness behind his closed eyes seemed to swirl around as though it had a life of its own and his brain seemed to chuckle at that very thought. Something was definitely not right ... he knew this feeling well, but it had just been so long since he had felt it.

"I know it's uncomfortable Gee, but I have to get you onto your side," Frank's voice broke through his daze as he felt rough hands wrestle with his heavy and limp body.

"I hate golf," he muttered, his voice slurring heavily.

Gerard noticed, how could he not notice. His head was spinning, his throat was dry, mouth tasted like vomit and body strangely numb. He wasn't making any sense and anything that came into his head he said out loud, but not in the exact words he had intended to use. Just like the blonde had suspected, he was drunk!

"What are you talking about bro?" Mikey's voice now although he couldn't really see him, all he could see, now that he finally managed to open his eyes, was a bedside table, a chest of drawers and a wall with a window.

He was in a room, he recognised it, but he couldn't quite figure out who it belonged to or where he was. He wasn't really sure of anything but the booze messing up his head at the moment.

"Golf playing pirates Mikes ... I hate golf," he moaned in frustration. Why didn't they understand what he was saying? It was pretty simple.

"Oh man, he's hammered," Frank exclaimed, somewhere out of his line of vision.

"I'll say. Fuck Gee, you're going to be regretting this in the morning."

Mikey's voice again. This time, Gerard felt tight hands grab him for an instant then he felt a gentle kiss connect with his forehead. It tingled and he found himself giggling drunkenly as he raised a hand to rub it away, like he would a kiss from his mum in front of kids from school.

"Ewww Mikes," he giggled again, eyes slowly closing as he realised there was no possible way he was going to be able to keep them open.

"Shhh, go to sleep Gee," Frank laughed gently, clearly finding his drunken antics quite amusing. Gerard wasn't even sure why.

"Don't wanna sleep ... don't wanna have pizza with margarita’s ..."

With those final words he heard Frank and Mikey's soft chuckles before his eyes completely closed once more and he gave in to the dizzying blackness that still swum around in that void between his eyes and his closed eyelids.


"Oh fuck me dead!"

Gerard clasped at his aching head as he realised just how dehydrated and sickly he truly felt. One thing was for certain, it was the first time in a long time that he actually wished he could go back to sleep again.

He recovered from his sickly disorientation only to realize that he had absolutely no idea where he was or what had happened to him. All he knew was that he had clearly been drinking. But when? Why?

Slightly concerned, he quickly sat up, if anything just to get a look at his current location. Immediately, his stomach ached and the first thing he remembered was that it had only been a day ago that he had escaped from the hospital. It felt like so much longer then that now.

If it wasn't for the ache around the wound in his stomach, he probably would have found that his hangover was quite unbearable, but for now, after everything he had been through, it didn't seem to be anything he couldn't deal with.

Then, he recognised the clothes thrown over the chair in the corner of the room. He knew they belonged to Mikey and he knew that he was in Mikey's room. That fact alone gave him some sort of comfort; at least he knew he was somewhere safe.

"Hey Gee ... you awake?"

Gerard moaned as he clasped at his throbbing forehead, someone was gently knocking on the almost closed bedroom door and whilst he was awake, he felt to sickly to really talk to anyone just at the moment. Still, he figured they'd just come in anyway, so somehow he found his voice.

"Yeah ... you can come in."

The door opened slowly and Frank stepped in rubbing the back of his head as he smiled at Gerard a little nervously.

"Hey man, how you feeling?" he asked, cringing slightly as another moan escaped Gerard's dry lips.

"Fan-fucking-tastic. I think a better question is what the hell happened?"

No matter how much Gerard tried to strain his brain, he just couldn't quite come up with a complete story.

He remembered leaving Franks in a hurry. Not long after he drove off, that sense of unexplainable exhaustion crept over him and he forced himself to pull over before anything bad happened.

Then, there had been the pub. He remembered now. For some reason, he just headed straight for it and downed as much beer as he could handle. That was the last thing he remembered. As for getting home, he had no idea how he managed that.

Frank sat himself on the edge of the bed looking at Gerard cautiously as though unsure how best to proceed with the story.

"Well, you kind of left our place in a real hurry. I wish you had of just stayed, would have saved everyone a whole heap of worry."

Gerard looked away from Frank guiltily as the memory of the reason he took off in such a hurry crept back into his mind. He had been so childish that he let jealousy get in the way of what he should have done and what he should have done was to just stay at Frank's and sleep.

"Does Lindsey know I'm okay?" he asked, knowing that she would be worried sick if she didn't know.

"Yeah, yeah, she knows you’re safe. We called her last night when me and Jamia hadn't heard from you. When she said you weren't there, well, we started to get really worried you know. Then I got a call from the bartender at the pub ... he said you were trying to drive home but he managed to get your keys and your phone off you and call the last person on your dialed numbers, which happened to be me. Asked if I would come get you cause you were way to drunk to drive."

Gerard scratched his head as he couldn't remember any of this even happening. How much beer did he drink? Why did he drink? It had been so long since he had even touched alcohol. Why the hell would he throw it all away now?

"Oh ... well, thanks for coming to get me Frank," he said. It was lame, but nothing else seemed to come to mind.

Frank just laughed. "That's not the end of the story Gee. You got into a fight ... you don't remember that?"

"Er - no ... No, not really." But not for lack of trying, because he tried to remember, but it was simply a horrible black void. All he remembered was drinking and then waking up on the golf course with his imaginary other self.

"Yeah well when I came to get you these drunks started hassling us, apparently you were being quite a prick ... so they say. All the years I saw you wasted, I've never known you to be an ass hole when you were drunk. It was nothing serious what they said back to you, but it seemed to hit a nerve and you just snapped. Man, I don't think I've ever, not in my whole entire life of knowing you, seen you fight like that. You were so mad. Even managed to get a few good punches in, but there were 3 of them and the bartender was holding me back from getting to you ... sorry I couldn't help."

Frank looked genuinely very distressed that he couldn't have helped, but Gerard took this moment to stop worrying about his pounding head and concentrate on the rest of his body. There was no pain or aches, no sign that he had even been in a fight. Perhaps he hadn't done so badly after all.

"Wow! You think maybe I should have remembered something like that," he smiled at Frank, letting him know subconsciously that he didn't blame him for not jumping in and helping, he was actually glad that the bartender didn't let Frank risk it. He wasn't really built for fighting. Sure, he could pack one hell of a punch, but he was so small that it was easy for some great big biker guy to just lightly toss him aside.

"Na, you were pretty out of it. But I got to say Gee ... I was a little - er - surprised at how well you actually did. You should have seen yourself. It was - well, it was kind of amazing."

But the look on Frank's face and his struggle to find the right words made Gerard think that perhaps his friend wasn't telling him everything. In fact, if he didn't know any better he'd say that Frank looked frightened. Gerard honestly didn't blame him, he had never been a violent drunk and if he had ever gotten into a fun wrestle at a party, he had certainly never managed to beat anyone up or come out unscathed.

"Anyway, one of them got you in the side of the head and you were down for the count. Lucky they were to drunk to really bother with you anymore after that. Took a while but I finally managed to get you back here. You seriously don't even remember getting that blow to the head?"

Frank pointed at the side of Gerard's head and whilst he couldn't see what was no doubt probably a bruise of some kind, he certainly did remember it. Well, he remembered the dream at least. The unbelievably real pain when the golf ball hit the side of his head, knocking him slightly off balance.

Then, remembering the dream only made him remember the beat up face of the blonde and he found himself cringing slightly. The bruises, the black eye, the split lip, how could he have done that to him? Had it really been him that did it? Why couldn't he even remember that?

It was just a dream ... it doesn't have to make sense!

"Gee ... you okay?" Frank asked, edging slightly closer on the bed.

"Huh? Yeah, I am. I felt it ... the punch I mean. I remember it - kind of really hurt."

Frank nodded in understanding, but there was still that off-putting sadness in the look that he was giving him. It frustrated Gerard to no end that Frank and him still couldn't talk to each other about what they were thinking.

Then, just like that, another thought crept it's way into Gerard's head and he found himself changing the subject and asking the one question he actually really wanted to know but was to afraid to ask.

"Um ... Frank," he cringed at what he was about to ask. "You know ... the other morning. Did that - um - did that actually happen?"

Frank stared for a moment before his face seemed to go a deep shade of red. Gerard covered up a laugh, he had really never seen Frank blush before. Ever in fact. He actually found himself getting quite embarrassed now as well.

He cleared his throat loudly. "Uh - erm ... yeah Gee ... yeah that actually happened."

There was a heavy silence that fell about the room and Gerard almost kicked himself for killing the mood. It seemed like neither of them could look at each other without having to quickly look away again. He wondered if it was ever going to be less awkward, it seemed almost impossible at the moment.

Frank sucked in his lip ring nervously as he seemed to remember something.

"Um - I know you were really drunk and all. But what the hell was all that about pizza and margaritas? And golf playing pirates?"

Gerard couldn't help but smile. Not just the fact that it was quite funny hearing all that come from Frank, but the thought of having to explain it all to Frank was just to crazy for one sitting.

"Just some wacky dream I had, that's all."

"Oh ... well, you know, nobody has pizza with margaritas together."

Gerard couldn't help but laugh. "I know right! Thank god someone else agrees."


AN: Please stick with me folks, it wont be long. You are now officially up to date with me. I have no idea where I'm going from here. Well, I do, but I'm open to interpreteation. LOL!

Still, hope you all enjoy, let me know and new chapter should be up on Sunday, Australia time. Ummm, in a few days American time. Sorry guys, I don't know that way so well.
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