Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > ... A Little More Kill Him

Chapter 3

by areyounormal 3 reviews

Patrick has a few surprises

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2009-12-06 - Updated: 2009-12-06 - 2048 words - Complete

“Master, I know you can hear me, at least, I hope you can. You’re not dead, I know. I don’t know what I can do, but I’m going to do everything I can to help you get back to full strength again. What he did to you was unforgivable and I’ll do anything to help you get revenge. Anything… everything. From this moment on, he can consider himself on borrowed time.”


“Pete?” Patrick called as he pushed the door to Pete’s room. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t you knock any more?” Pete grumbled.
“I called out,” Patrick snapped in return. “You’re not gonna tell me you didn’t hear me, because I won’t believe it.”
“I heard you,” Pete scowled in return. “Doesn’t mean I wanted you to come in, does it?”
“What is the matter with you?” Patrick frowned deeply as Pete turned away from him once more.

Patrick waited semi-patiently for a minute or two, his stare not moving from the back of Pete’s head. He was confused, very confused. Pete had finally got his revenge on Beckett for turning him. Beckett and his entire coven were dead and gone; their lives were about to get easier and simpler. Pete should be celebrating, dancing in the street, cheering, jumping for joy! Anything except what he was doing – moping miserably in his room, refusing to even speak now.

“Aren’t you even going to speak to me?” Patrick pushed.
“Have you not got anything better to do?” Pete grumbled angrily.
“No,” Patrick replied with feigned innocence. “I could stand here all night.”

Pete heaved a heavy sigh and finally turned to face the fledgling vampire. It was hard to stay angry with Patrick. Whether he was aware of it, or even played on it, Pete didn’t know, but Patrick was more than capable of manipulating emotions. Right now, the expression on his face conveyed naïvity and more than a suggestion that he was hurt by Pete’s behaviour. When he wanted to be, he was impressive at eliciting sympathy and coercing people into accepting the guilt he forced on them – he had been good at it as a human, but now, he was an expert.

“Stop it!” Pete snapped. “I’m not going to be drawn by you.”
“Okay, Pete.” Patrick lowered his eyes and nodded slowly and lightly, pausing momentarily before turning to leave.
“Every time!” Pete snapped as his friend turned. “Every fucking time you make me feel bad until I talk!”
Patrick turned his head back to stare at Pete over his shoulder. “Are you ready?”
“Sit down,” Pete sighed as he turned to face his friend.
“What’s wrong, Pete?” Patrick asked again as he took a seat next to him on the small couch.

Pete drew his legs up so that his knees were pulled close to his chest and he let out a deep sigh. Gathering his thoughts as his friend stared expectantly at him.

“Everyone thinks I should be celebrating,” Pete folded his arms around his legs and shook his head slowly. “But I don’t feel like celebrating.”
“Why?” Patrick asked gently, confused and concerned over Pete’s strange behaviour.
“For two years I’ve been trying to get revenge for what Beckett did to me, and… now…”
“What? He’s dead, isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Yes, it’s what I wanted!” Pete yelled as he pushed himself from the couch. Pacing the room, his arms flailing and his movements animated and exaggerated. “Two years, Patrick! Two years I wanted to kill him and what happens? He captures me… not once, but twice! I’m chained up in his damn dungeons twice! And I have to be rescued! Twice! And I kill you, I nearly kill Andy! And in the end, who kills Beckett? Is it me? The one who’s been trying to for two years? Or is it you? A two day old vampire?”
“Oh,” Patrick replied quietly.
“Yeah, ‘oh’!” Pete growled in reply. “But even now you know, you still don’t get it do you?”
“Then tell me,” Patrick replied calmly.

Pete raised his eyes to the ceiling and screamed his frustration. He was angry, he was confused, frustrated and upset. Part of him didn’t really know why, he had what he wanted and they worked as a team. Why did it matter so much to him? But it wasn’t just that, was it? That was just the last straw.

“And here! Andy and Joe are falling over themselves to show you that they trust you! Poor Patrick! Mustn’t upset him, oh no, not poor Patrick! I get locked up for fourteen weeks and they still didn’t trust me, they probably still don’t! But you? You’re accepted faster than giving cash to a conman!”
“So you don’t think I can be trusted?” Patrick scowled in reply.
“It’s not about you, it’s about them!”
“It is about me, Pete and you know it is,” Patrick got to his feet and took a few steps closer.
“It isn’t,” Pete insisted, but his voice now took on an uncertain tone.
“You can lie to others but you can’t lie to me, Pete, you can’t. I always know, and… even more so now.”

Pete’s shoulders dropped along with all the tension and anger in his face. What remained was a heart rendering lost expression and the beginnings of tears forming in his bloodshot eyes.

“Do you want to say what’s really on your mind? Or shall I?”
“You don’t know,” Pete mumbled, looking down at his feet.
“Would it help if I got angry with you? Screamed and cursed that you turned me?”
“God damn it, Patrick!” Pete yelled irritably. “This is what I have to deal with! You… all… reasonable!”
“Well what do you want me to do?” Patrick threw his arms up in a sign of despair.
“What do I want?” Pete stared for half a minute, but it felt like a lifetime. “Hate me, yell at me, hit me, kill me… anything!”

Flopping down in a chair, Pete dropped his head into his waiting hands and sighed audibly.

“Anything but understand?”
“Yeah, anything but that.”
Patrick nodded and stepped forward. Pete looked up as Patrick approached, not seeing the heavy punch swung across his jaw sending him spinning across the floor. By the time he looked up again, Patrick had left the room.


“Joe, I’m serious!” Andy insisted.

Joe stared at his friend as he stood, sweating from training, his hair plastered to his forehead. He didn’t know what could possibly be so urgent. With Beckett gone, their chief source of problems was gone. The only vampire groups remaining now, rarely fought with each other unless provoked or paid to. Yes, paid to. The night of the trap, local vampire groups had been paid in blood to start fights, but normally, apart from the Dandies, they kept themselves to themselves.

“This is Patrick we’re talking about? You’re sure?”
“Joe, there’s something wrong, I’m telling you. He practically told me he couldn’t be trusted.”
“Well that doesn’t sound like Patrick,” Joe concluded.
“Really? Because you’ve had so many conversations with him since he was turned?”
“What are you saying, Andy? That Patrick’s really evil, but pretending to be good, yet he’s dropping little hints that he’s bad?”

Andy shook his head, his face screwed up in frustration as he realised that Joe had completely misunderstood what he was saying.

“No! Listen! I’m saying that despite all his insistence that he’s okay and that he’s accepted the change, I don’t think he has.”
“Oh,” Joe replied, drying the sweat from his hair with a towel.
“That’s really gross, Joe.”
“I’m gonna wash it! You’re the one who stopped me training, I’m getting cold,” Joe explained.
“Okay, so, Patrick?”
“So, what’s the trust issue? He says we can trust him, but he feels bad or guilt that we do?”
“Something like that,” Andy sighed. “I think Pete’s little outburst about how long we had him locked up when we went to let them out of the cage really got to him.”
“Yeah, Pete’s got a habit of doing that, not much changes.”
“Yeah well Trick also thinks that Pete’s grumpier than ever now. I gotta be honest, I can’t see it, so I’m guessing Pete’s upset with Patrick.”
“Well, what can we do?” Joe shrugged. “If we lock him up he’ll think we don’t trust him, if we do nothing, the pair of them get into it?”
“The last thing we need is two warring vampires under our roof, we have to figure out a way to handle this before it blows up.”

Joe nodded as he settled the towel around his neck. This was not something they had ever had to deal with before. It needed careful handling, but most of all it needed to be handled quickly.


Patrick leaned against the wall of yet another grey building; he had been walking for just over an hour and was momentarily uncertain over where he was. He had trudged through the largely empty streets with his head down, staring at the floor. Wandering aimlessly, he now found himself in what appeared to be an office district. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, he knew he had to be aware of the time and how long it would take him to return to the warehouse. Although he was aware, somehow the idea of it only seemed to make him feel more miserable. Perhaps Andy was right? Perhaps he hadn’t fully accepted this? Patrick knew he had the ability to switch off in order to concentrate on what was really important; he’d always been able to do that. Maybe, the need to escape from and defeat Beckett had provided the distraction he needed? But now? Now he was alone with his thoughts, and they weren’t happy ones.

The sound of heeled shoes pulled him from his reverie; this was the office district and it was gone eleven already, no one was still here. Slipping into the shadows provided by the unlit entrance to the building he had stopped by, he watched, being careful to make no sound. He wasn’t sure why he had reacted this way, there was outwardly nothing to suggest danger, perhaps it was just that the presence of anyone in this part of town had surprised him. He had been on too many hunts and seen too many terrible things not to be wary. And yet, somehow, there was something else, something that bombarded his senses and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he should hide. Pressing himself back against the wall, Patrick watched as three figures approached, striding confidently up the centre of the street, unworried by traffic. His eyes widened as, well lit by the street lamps, he could clearly see the three Dandies as they headed toward what he knew was the Mayor’s office building. How was it even possible? The mansion was burned to a shell, at dawn; no one could have survived. And yet, here they were, stalking the streets as confidently as they always had. Then, a thought occurred to him. The dungeons. Was it possible that they had survived the conflagration? It might explain it. But were there more? Or were these the only survivors? What did they have in mind? And why were they headed for the Mayor’s office? Was he in their pay too?

Pushing further back into the shadows, trying desperately hard not to be seen, Patrick cursed himself. Alone and unarmed, even as a vampire he would stand no chance against all three. The best he could hope for would be to get away and raise the alarm at the warehouse. In his miserable state, he had even managed to forget to bring his phone or pager. Somehow he had to warn the others and find out what Beckett was up to.
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