FicWad

Unconscious in his hospital bed, Gerard lay in a dream world. He could hear vaguely, as if from a distance, the voices of his brother and another, unknown man talking. He couldn't quite tell what they were saying, but the tone alone indicated to him that it wasn't anything good.

However, before Gerard could try tuning in to the faint, far off words, he began to see a glowing light in front of him. Part of his mind told him he was dreaming, but he ignored it.

From the depths of the light, a figure began to step forwards. Gerard stayed still, breath bated, waiting for whoever it was to finally come close enough for him to identify. The time that lapsed could have been seconds, or centuries, and he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference, nor did he want to. At this moment, time was moving too quick for him, yet moving at a snails pace at the same time. He just wanted it to pick one or the other, not both, but most of all, he just wanted to be back with his band, not in whatever place this was.

Gradually, the singer began to make out more details of the person coming towards him.

Whoever it was, they weren't very large. In fact, they seemed to be rather short and fragile in stature. Most of their body seemed to be wrapped in a robe or dress, only arms, lower legs, and head free. This signified to Gerard that they were either woman, child, or a small man, maybe Frankie's size.

Several steps later, it became apparent that the person was a woman, as evidenced by the purse they carried. Even in silhouette like this, they seemed familiar.

The singer squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will himself back onto his tour bus. It didn't work.

When he opened his eyes again, she was standing directly in front of him. There was a moment of tense silence, before he asked, "Grandma?"

"Gerard." She replied, sorrow in her voice.

"Grandma, am I dead?" Gerard finally asked, giving substance to the thought that had been running through his mind since seeing the white light. He suddenly sounded like a young boy, 30 years his junior. All of a sudden, he regretted asking it, as if asking would make it real.

"Not yet." Elena said.

He was silent for a moment, eyes welling up with tears as the news sank in. The thoughts of all the future joys he was giving up, all the people who would miss him swirled around his head.

"Grandma, I don't wanna die! Not now! I have so much unfinished business!" The signer protested, sounding like a petulant child.

"Gerard, you brought this upon yourself. You drank and drank until your poor liver gave up, and you broke yourself from throwing up your insides every night." The old woman said sadly.

"But I wasn't an alcoholic!" Gerard protested, the tears starting to spill down his cheeks.

Ever the one for tough love, his grandmother whacked him angrily with her purse. "Gerard Arthur Way! Alcoholics always deny it! If you had reached out for help even one drink sooner, you'd be just fine now! You always told everyone you could always quit tomorrow, so why didn't you?"

Gerard rubbed the aching spot on his arm. His grandmother apparently hadn't lost her knack for knocking sense into people when the occasion called for it. The tears started to come faster now. "I was gonna stop, Grandma! I was gonna stop tomorrow!"

"I always told you never put off until tomorrow what you can do today, and should do today, because by the time tomorrow gets here, it's already today. You ignored that, and look where you are now."

"I know, but I swear after tonight, I'm never touching another drink!" Gerard sobbed. He never thought that his bad habit would get this far.

Elena laid her hand on his arm, and said quietly, almost reluctantly, "Gerard, for you, there may not be a tomorrow."