FicWad

“Lisa?”

Lisa looked up towards the source of the voice. In the doorway stood her friend and colleague, Sandra Hobbs. With an hour before her next appointment, Lisa was catching up with paperwork but welcomed the interruption.

“Hey, San, what’s up?”
“Bob Bryar, he’s your… what is he now?”

Lisa smiled and shrugged. They hadn’t been seeing each other long enough to give it a label, all she knew was that she wanted to.

“I guess we’re seeing each other,” she ventured.
“Lis,” Sandra frowned as she walked into the office and closed the door behind her.
“What’s wrong?” Lisa frowned. “He’s not my patient any more.”
“It… it’s not that, it’s…”
“What!” Lisa rose to her feet as she grew more agitated.
“It’s just been on the news. Sit down, Lis.”
“What’s happened? Tell me!”
“His new therapist was also treating Gerard Way, he got them together and… Way went crazy and he’s got him… he’s got Bob tied up in the office, alone.”
“He… that bastard! I trusted him!”
“Lis? What? Who did you trust?”
“Simmons, I used to work with him. He agreed to see Bob after I couldn’t. He didn’t say anything about Way. San, cancel all my appointments, I’m going over there now!”

*

“He didn’t do a very good job of that, did he?” Gerard commented as he inspected the cord wrapped around Bob’s hands and feet. “Always the same, if you want something done well!”
“Gerard…”
“You never call me Gee any more, Frank. Why is that?”

Frank watched helplessly as Gerard rose and dragged Bob’s unconscious form out of the chair. Kneeling, he untied the cord and, pulling Bob’s arms behind him, tied his hands viciously tight before bending his legs to tie his ankles.

“There!” he cried triumphantly. “You didn’t answer me.” He added as he jammed a chair under the door handle.
“I called you that when you were my friend.”
“Oh, poor Frank. Am I not your friend any more?” he mocked. “Speaking of which, where’s Ray? It’s been him all along, but now just you? Where is he?”
“He’s… he’ll be here soon.”

Gerard regarded the former guitarist quietly for a few moments. Frank’s answer was suspicious to say the least, but also, somehow disturbing.

“So,” Gerard looked down, “guess I was too enthusiastic. It’ll be a while before he wakes up. Just you and me then?”
“Gerard… Gee, why are you doing this? I mean, really, why are you doing this?”

Gerard frowned deeply. A part of him wanted to answer the question, another part of him wanted to laugh and another wanted to cry.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he sighed taking a seat once more, hugging his left leg to his chest.
“Try me?” Frank suggested. “You’ve got nothing to do until he wakes up.”

Gerard stared, unseeing into the distance making no sound as he contemplated what to say. Glancing down he examined his fingernails, chewed his lip and finally, shook his head.

“This isn’t real, is it? None of this is real.”
“What’s not real?”
“None of this! I’m still on the tour bus, drunk, aren’t I?”

Frank’s eyes brimmed with tears as he heard the words. Was Gerard’s sobriety really to blame for his behaviour? Had years of alcohol and drugs messed with his mind so much that it was lost forever?

“This is real, Gee. All of it. You’re not going to wake up from this,” Frank replied quietly. “You know you killed us?”
“For a brief moment there,” Gerard sighed and rose to his feet. “I almost believed I’d imagined the whole thing. You know, I have a real problem with reality, it keeps moving and I have to keep a real close eye on it or I’ll lose it altogether. Have you any idea how that feels?”
“No,” Frank admitted. “When did you first notice?”
“I think it probably started before, but I first really noticed when he arrived,” Gerard replied in a surprisingly conversational tone.
“Who’s he?”
“Gerard.”
“You’re Gerard,” Frank corrected.
“No, the other one, the blond one. He had it in for me all along. It was either him or me.” Gerard began to pace the room. “That’s no choice! It’s not murder if it’s self defence, is it?”
“No,” Frank replied, realising with dread where the conversation was leading. “Go on.”
“The Black Parade had to die. He was killing me and… and you’d have killed the others too. You had to die. Even if I die for this, at least The Black Parade is dead and they can’t hurt anyone any more.”
“And that’s why you killed us?” Frank answered, his voice a mere whisper, still echoed in the silent room.
“And it’s why I have to finish the job. I have to make sure The Black Parade is dead.”
“Gee?”
“Hmm?”
“What if I said you have the wrong Bob?”

Gerard stopped pacing and hung his head in exasperation before whirling around to face the guitarist.

“Do you think I’m an idiot!” he yelled. “There is only one! I don’t think there are two of you!”
“Then how can there be two of you?” Frank replied, frustrated at his misreading of the situation.
“There isn’t, damn it! I wish there were, it would be much simpler. He’s in me. He’s part of me. He’s all the bad in me, he’s the one I have to kill and if it kills me too, so be it, but I have to kill the others first!”

A low groan came from the floor drawing Gerard’s attention. Glancing down, he saw Bob begin to wake, stretching his aching neck and frowning deeply even before he was fully awake.

“No time to chat now, Frank, I have to finish this.”

*

Even if she hadn’t known the exact address, Lisa would have known where to go. The street was swarming with police, the press, evacuated office workers and concerned fans. With the front of the building and immediate area cordoned off, Lisa had to ask the taxi to pull up several hundred yards away. Quickly paying with too much money, Lisa ran from the cab towards the building. Even as she approached she could see Simmons waiting with the police giving a statement, that she assumed would be a pack of lies designed to try to keep his licence. Racing up, breathless and incensed, she broke through the line of police and headed straight for Simmons.

“You bastard!” she screamed.
“Lisa, you don’t understand…” he stammered in return.
“You’re damn right, I don’t! You put him in danger! Deliberately! I’m reporting you to the Medical Association, they’ll have your licence Simmons! And if I have my way, you’ll go to prison too!”

Simmons drew himself up, angry that her few words may have countered the careful lie he had concocted to keep himself out of trouble.

“Now then, Lisa. You are sleeping with the man, don’t you think you’re overreacting, just a little bit?”
“You bastard!” Lisa screamed again swinging a clenched fist hard into his cheek.

Simmons’ head jarred sharply to his right as Lisa’s venomous punch impacted against his jaw. He didn’t even feel his lip splitting before he spun to the right and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Don’t even think of arresting me for that!” Lisa bristled. “He put the same murderous psychopath that killed the other band members in the same room as Bob and let him attack him. He deserved it!”
“Okay, okay!” The officer rolled his eyes as Simmons slumped over onto his side with a whimper. “Just… just calm down and tell me who you are.”
“I’m Lisa Brady. Bob and I… well, you know. I want to know what’s happening.”
“Okay, but it sounds to me like you know most of it.”

*

“Come on, Bryar!” Gerard snapped, slapping Bob’s cheeks to wake him. “I don’t have all day!”
“What do you want?” Bob croaked unhappily as he realised his situation.

Taking a seat on the chair where Bob had earlier been sitting, Gerard kicked Bob’s shoulder.

“You know what I want! I want to kill you. But I want you to suffer, like you made me suffer.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bob groaned.
“Of course not! Liar!” Gerard screamed, unimpressed at the reply.
“Gerard?”

Gerard’s head jerked to the right, his breathing shallowed and he drew his mouth into a thin line.

“I wondered if you’d ever show your face, Mikey.”
“I didn’t want to come, Ray convinced me. He said you were trying to kill Bob.”
“Yeah? What of it?” Gerard snapped back.
“I can’t let you, Gee. I… I can’t let you.”
“You can’t stop me, Mikes. You… you can’t stop me!” replied mockingly.

Mikey took a deep breath as Gerard turned away from him back to the bound and helpless form of Bob, lying struggling on the floor.

“I can, Gee, but you won’t like it, neither of us will.”
“Really?” Gerard turned back briefly. “Do whatever you think you can do, Mikey, I’ve got work to do.”

Turning back to Bob, Gerard gasped in surprise as a sensation of being both crushed and torn apart enveloped him.

“Fuck!” he struggled for breath. “What the…”

Gerard dropped to his knees as Mikey’s spirit merged with his body. Finding it suddenly hard to breathe, Gerard took in air in fitful gasps. With clenched fists, Gerard gripped his head as he curled into an agonised ball.

“Get out! Get out! Leave me alone!” he screamed as he rocked back and forth, still kneeling near Bob. “Get… get… out!”

Finally, Gerard’s screams faded and he merely rocked back and forth, silently, staring off toward the wall. Sitting in the same position for a few minutes, hardly making a sound, Gerard finally crumpled to his left as Mikey separated from him and fell away to his right. Crying profusely, Mikey felt the comforting hands of Ray and Frank draw him into a hug.

“Are you okay?” Mikes? Are you okay?” Frank asked, shocked by the paleness of his complexion and the sheer volume of tears shed in so short a space of time.
Mikey nodded slowly. “So much confusion,” he gasped. “So much anger and sadness. He doesn’t know what’s real any more.”
“He thinks we’re The Black Parade,” Frank explained. “He tried to kill The Black Parade off in Mexico, but we didn’t die. This time he did it for real.”
“What now?” Ray asked as all three turned to look at Gerard.

The singer sat cross-legged on the floor next to Bob, merely staring.

“So clear,” he muttered. “So clear.”

From his position on the floor, Bob turned his head to look back over his shoulder towards Gerard. Confused by his sudden change, he could only stare.

“So clear,” Gerard repeated. “His mind’s so clear. Mine… mine feels like a tornado. It shouldn’t be like that, should it? So clear.”
“Gerard?”

Gerard looked down towards Bob, still merely staring in stunned surprise. Leaning forward, he began to untie the drummer’s wrists.

“Mikey,” Ray whispered. “What did you do?”
“I don’t really know.” The young bassist admitted. “I just asked for my brother back. He was in there, somewhere.”

Pulling his hands free, Bob scuttled back away from Gerard and released his ankles. Heading for the door, Bob turned before opening it. Staring down, perplexed at Gerard’s sudden transformation.

“Gerard?” he said again.

Looking up, the singer met Bob’s eyes, seeing him as if for the first time.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered. “I’m really sorry.”
“Yeah,” Bob nodded, still uncertain what to say. “You should be.”

Quietly opening the door, Bob slipped out and ran for the elevator, shocked to have survived another attempt on his life.

*

“How was he left alone in there?” Lisa demanded. “Wasn’t he even handcuffed?”
“Look,” Simmons began. “You just don’t get a case like that every day. I wanted to research it closely. I wanted to know how he reacted under different conditions.”
“What kind of conditions?” Lisa snapped.
“A regular therapy session. I wanted to see if he opened up more if he was just sitting, not chained, not guarded, just sitting in a normal session.” Simmons explained.
“But Bob? You didn’t say anything, you knew who he was and you deliberately put them in the same room, no warning, no protection, nothing!”
“I didn’t think he could attack him, he seemed to be in a lot of pain from a previously dislocated arm. I thought he was safe.”
“You lying bastard! You would have done it anyway, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you!”

A sudden commotion behind them drew Lisa’s attention. Turning her eyes widened as she saw Bob staggering from the building; the exertions from his escape weighing him down. She was already running to him when he collapsed on the steps.

“Bob!” she cried, cradling him and stroking his hair. “You’re all right. What happened? How did you get out?”

Bob turned a confused expression towards Lisa; sadness filling his eyes.

“He let me go. He seemed to be talking to Mikey, then he went really quiet and he untied me.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He said he was sorry.”

Lisa glanced up as the paramedics approached. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a group of police officers entering the building.

“Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.”
“I… I just don’t understand.”

Lisa cupped his cheek with her hand and lightly brushed her lips against his.

“I don’t think we ever will. Come on, you need to see a doctor.” Turning back to Simmons for a brief moment, Lisa’s eyes darkened. “And trust me, Simmons, I’ll make sure you lose your licence for this.”

*

“Gerard? Are you coming?”

Gerard shook his head, remaining silent.

“Why not?”
“I killed you,” he replied simply, his tone filled with remorse and guilt.
“We know. Are you coming?”
“How can you be so nice to me after what I did?” Gerard asked miserably.
“Because it’s all that’s left. You’re sorry for what you did, aren’t you?” Frank asked.

Looking up with tears in his eyes, Gerard nodded.

“But it doesn’t change anything,” he choked out.
“It does, it changes everything.”
“It doesn’t bring you back.”
“No,” Ray smiled, “it doesn’t do that. But it did bring you back.”
“Gee,” Mikey took Gerard’s hand. “Come on. I got my brother back, I want to spend time with him.”
“I killed you!” Gerard broke down.
“No, that wasn’t you,” Mikey pulled him close. “You were lost somewhere in your own mind. I found you and brought you back. What happened; that wasn’t you, not the real you.”

With a splintering of wood, the door finally gave way and the police entered the room, weapons drawn. Looking down at the floor, each man in turn holstered his pistol. Reaching for his radio, the lead officer called downstairs.

“We’re gonna need a body bag up here. Looks like he’s killed himself. Stabbed himself in the neck with a letter opener. From the amount of blood on the floor, I doubt he’s alive.”

“Come on, Gee, it’s time to go,” Mikey encouraged. “We’re done here.”
“What about Bob?” Gerard whispered.
“He’ll be okay,” Ray nodded as he helped Gerard to his feet. “We’ll look after him, all of us.”


THE END