FicWad

Hello my lovelies. Your positive responses to this story are SO inspiring to me! Thank you! Okeydokie. So I felt that in the midst of all this drama about Frankie, well, he's rather gotten ignored. Upstaged, if you will by our beloved Gerard. So I thought Frankie deserved to get to tell this portion. Enjoi. :D

Frankie's POV

"Come on Frankie. Stay awake. "

"Frank?"

"Frankie! Frankie!"

"Frank. Come on man, don't fall asleep. Open your eyes."

"Frankie please!"

I feel like I am a block of ice. Maybe. I dunno. I'm not sure what ice blocks feel like. But the only comparison I've got is the one time where I was six and one of my many cousins convinced me that it was a good idea to walk on the pond after the first snow, and that it was safe and frozen all the way through. Of course it wasn't. I was so terrified as I plunged into that water, so cold I felt like every part of me just stopped working. That's how I feel now. Like I'm drowning in that water again. I can barely hear, barely feel, barely think anything. Except how fucking cold I am.

Someone's touching me and I think maybe it's Mikey but my eyelids have frozen shut so I can't look and see. And the ice that's covering my body is blocking my ears, so though I think it's Mikey and Gerard I can't hear well enough to be sure.

If my face wasn't frozen in the position it's in now, whatever that is, I would be frowning. They keep asking me to open my eyes. How can they not know I can't? How can they not see that they've frozen shut.

I can't breathe either. It's like there's a weight on my chest, the ice, I guess, must be constricting it. So every breath that I take hurts me, hurts my insides and I think maybe my bones will all shatter at any given moment.

Did I mention that I'm terrified? That spider could come back at any second. And it's gonna kill me when it does, I know it. Someone sent that spider after me. Maybe the devil. I was raised Catholic, but I always thought all that was bullshit until now. Maybe there is a hell. I think there might be, and right now they're just giving me a taste of it.

Someone touches my face with a hand that is absolutely scalding. It burns me and I try to jerk back and shy away from it.

"Gee, he's burning!"

Don't they know anything? Maybe hell is like opposite world and burning really means freezing. Yeah, that must be what's going on . That makes sense.

"Hang on Mikey. This is ridiculous. We've been here almost forty five minutes. His body can't take this. "

There's some footsteps and I feel that burning on my cheek again.

"Ow," I moan, trying to move my head. I can't though, it's too heavy.

"Be strong Frankie," the maybe Mikey whispers to me.

Somebody is yelling.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. We've been here for forty five minutes and he has a fever of almost one hundred and six. He could fucking die!"

"Sir, watch your language please. We're sorry but since we practice triage-"

"I don't give a fuck about my language or your triage! He could DIE from this!"

"Fine. I'll call for more help, but I can't promise anything."

"Thank fucking god. "

More footsteps and then a soft voice says, "Motherfucker."

"She's gonna call for back up Mikey. I can't believe this."

I've never seen Gerard behave like that. All angry and so sure of himself. It's a new side of him. I'm actucally kind of impressed. If I could speak, I'd think of some witty remark, half complimenting, half insulting. But my brain cells have surely frozen at this point.

Everything seems to be slowing down as a thought clicks into place. They are talking about ME. They think I'm gonna die. I'm really gonna DIE. As in dead. Deceased. Fucking DEAD.

"No!" I say, wrenching my frozen jaws apart. "Nononononononononono.Idon'twannadieIdon'twannadieI'mgonnagotohellandIdon'twannadie." My eyes tear open painfully, and there's more heat as warmth drips down my cheeks. I grab Mikey's hand. "PleaseMikeyDon'tLetMeDie." I tell him, gasping.

He looks even more scared than I am as the doors burst open and a bunch of people crash through, all of their eyes locked on me as they move toward us while wheeling a gurney. They're gonna strap me down.

"Mikey. Mikey don't let me die! Don't let them take me! I don't want to die and they're gonna kill me!" As I scream, I feel a sharp tug in my nose. Blood starts gushing out in massive amounts, flooding.

I.Can't. Breathe. I.Can't. Breathe.

I open my mouth to try to find some oxygen, but the blood just flows in there too, choking me. I'm gurgling as they lift me, though I cling to Mikey's t-shirt until the very last second possible. He and Gerard watch, speechless as all these people shove tubes and cloths and hands at me, touching me and talking too fast and there's so much blood on my shirt and it's so so so warm and I'm choking. Why aren't they helping me? Why are they just watching these people take me away? I'm gonna die and they're just watching.

The blood comes back out my mouth and all over me and the world spins much faster than it is supposed to as they push me down the hall and into a room with the kinds of machines that they say will save you, but they really use to kill you.

I'm still gagging on this blood that seems to be covering all of me and they're hooking me up to tubes and everything is so damn loud and god I didn't even know I had this much blood inside me and where in the hell has all the oxygen gone because it's not going in through my nose and it's not going in through my mouth which means I must not be breathing and that must be why it all looks like it's melting and oh my god I think this is it.


Six Hours Later.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Good god. Clearly I've died and gone to hell because that has got to be the most annoying sound in the world.

As I open my eyes, I take in the hospital room dazedly. I guess maybe I'm not dead. Wait. Why would I be dead? Why am I in a hospital bed? How did I get here and why does my mouth taste so much like blood?

I shiver and pull the itchy cotton sheets around me tighter as I look around the bland, small room. In the moonlight I try to get a better look at everything, but it's hard. There's a pull out chair in the corner, and Mikey is curled up on it, snoring softly, his glasses hanging crookedly on the end of his nose. I can't help but smile when I look at him.

I can see a shadow on the carpet and I push myself up to look down over the side rails of my bed. The scarlet hair casting an odd glow over that ghost white face. Gerard looks terrible. He's lying on the bare tile and I think he might be shaking. He looks almost as cold as I feel.

I feel too tired to look around anymore. It's so hard to stay awake, hard to hold myself up. With a huge exhale I collapse back onto my pillow, losing myself in the blackness without another thought.


Six hours later.

Beep.Beep.Beep. Beep.

Oh please make that stop. Really. It's just awful.

It takes several tries for me to finally lift my eyelids open- they're much heavier than they should be. The room comes into focus, along with light that is too bright as it reflects off of the floor. I cover my eyes for a moment, lifting my hand gradually so that the light isn't killing my eyes so much.

The room looks mostly like it did before. Mikey is still passed out in the chair, though now he has a blanket, pulled up over him all the way up to his chin like some giant napkin, tucked into his t-shirt. I peer down to the tile where Gerard used to be, but he's gone now, which doesn't surprise me very much. His jacket is on the floor though, which is the only thing that makes me sure he was ever there at all.

I sigh, flopping back against the pillows and staring at the cieling. It has that generic pattern- the one that looks like the little stucco fireworks. I start to count them all, but then get dizzy and stop, crossing my arms frustratedly. I'm resisting the urge to go back to sleep when there's a soft knock at my door.


"Hello," a breezy voice says softly.

I look up to see a petite, willowy figure standing in my doorway. Shiny black hair waves down to the middle of her back, but it's wild and tangled, like it's never met a brush brave enough to try and battle it. Her hospital gown is barely hanging over her bony shoulders which stick out through the thin, blue diamond patterned fabric. Her face is pointed, with protruding cheek bones that kind of remind me of a native american or something. Her eyes are huge, round and glistening, and absolutely black. There are dark bags beneath them, purplish things that take up most of her face. Her nose is pointed, upturned a little bit. Her rosebud mouth moves slowly as she asks, "May I come in?" in a quiet, polite tone.

"Uhm, yeah I guess."

She walks with lithe, flowing movements, and she almost looks like she's dancing as she comes and sits indian style on the floor beside my bed. She looks up at me with a blank expression, eyes wide.

"I'm Esmeralda. Like in The Hunchback of Notre Dame." She smiles when she says that, then watches me expectantly.

"Oh. I'm Frankie." It takes a lot of effort for me to reach over the rails and extend a hand to her.

"It's wonderful to meet you," she tells me in her wind chime voice. "You look rather terrible though."

I laugh. "Oh do I?"

She nods morosely then sings, "You're looking very sick and ill todayyyyy," in a whispering singsong tone.

I smile as best as I can manage. "The Smiths. What Difference Does It Make. Nice."

She grins. "You knew!" She begins to say something else, then stops midstream, looking distracted and staring at something I can't see. Her hands float absently over her lap as she coos charmingly, stroking an invisible something or other.

"Hello you mischievious devil you. You haven't been eating the birds again, have you Elliot?"

I gape at her, feeling my jaw drop to the floor. What the hell? My eyebrows raise as she looks up at me, onyx eyes shimmering.

"How silly of me! I didn't introduce you! This is Elliot, my cat!" She stands up, holding her arms awkwardly like she's cradling something. She offers it to me, and I reach out tentatively, not exactly sure how to pet an invisible cat. She seems pleased enough though, as I pantomime scratching behind the ears.

"Hi, Elliot." I tell it.

Esmeralda looks down lovingly at where the cat would be, then gasps.

"What is it?"

"She's coming!" Esmeralda covers her mouth in horror, then drops the would be cat to the floor and crawls under my bed. I'm about to ask her to clarify, though I don't expect a sensible answer, but she doesn't give me a chance.

A moment later a nurse appears in my doorway, smiling a fake, disturbing smile.

"You haven't seen a girl running about have you? Dark hair, big eyes, talking to herself?"

There's an awkward pause before I reply. "Nope. Nope, can't say I have."

She snaps her fingers and sighs. The bed trembles. I bite my lip uncomfortably, shifting my weight and rustling the sheets, trying to look natural.

The nurse looks at me skeptically, then sighs again. "Well, let me know if you see her. She got out again. She's a handful." She walks away, grumbling to herself, and only as she retreats can I see the very large syringe that she is brandishing.

I lean over the rails after a moment, looking upside down at Esmeralda, who is still curled beneath my bed, knees pulled up to her chest.

"You can come out now I think. She's gone."

She breathes a sigh of relief, picks up her cat and crawls out, standing up and dusting herself off with her really free hand.

"Well Frank, it was a pleasure to meet you. But I really must be going now. I'd rather she didn't find me and stick me with that thing. It makes me think about the most dreadful things," She says thoughtfully, dark eyes glazed over. She blinks, having gotten lost in her thoughts, whatever they were. She waves and turns around gracefully, moving towards the door and nearly running into Gerard, who looks groggy and confused as he tries to pass through the doorway.

"Good Morning!" Esmeralda greets him and skips out the door. Gerard looks after her dazedly, then back to me. He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head back and forth, like I've noticed he likes to do when he's trying to gain clarity.


"What in the hell," he murmurs softly. Then it registers that I am conscious, which I guess must have been a big deal.

"You're awake!" He says excitedly, walking to my bedside.

I nod. "Yeah, I suppose I am."

"It's good to see you awake."

"Thanks."

There's a quiet moment as we both glance over at Mikey, who is still snoring away in the chair. I glance at Gerard, looking him over. He looks haggard. His vibrant hair is messy, sticking in several different directions and looking even brighter in contrast to his chalky skin. His eyes are tired, puffy. He looks too thin to me; his clothes seem to not fit right.

What is this place doing to everyone, I think to myself.

Gerard is staring at me when I look up.

"What?" I ask him, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Nothing. I'm just happy you're okay. You really scared us Frankie."

Frankie. That's the first time he's called me that. I can't help but smile a little to myself. He smiles too, and we share a quiet moment.

"Is there anything you want? Food or something?" Gerard asks me, though he looks much more in need of food than I feel. Granted, I still feel somewhat like a popsicle, and not particularly like I want to eat anything. The only thing I can think of is how bad he looks, and how frightened Esmeralda was. After a minute I decide that I don't like this place. Not at all.

I look up at him with what I think is probably a pleading expression.

"Yeah. Please can we get the fuck out of here?"


Well, now at least we know our Frankie's alright. I know this chapter is a little on the dull side, but it needed to be written. Besides, it was fun to be Frankie for a little. And I can promise you, there are some very exciting things coming up ahead, so don't go thinking I'm getting all boring. Rates and Reviews feed my inspiration and my muse! Faster you respond, faster I respond. Thanks all. xoxox.