FicWad

A/N: Well, this is it, the last chapter! It's so much more badly written than I hoped it would be... sorry!
I'm going to write the epilogue later this week -hopefully- so that will be my last update!

With Adam and Ray beside him, Mikey ahead in the passenger's seat and Gerard safely in view, Frank daydreamed as they finished their drive north. Although he still didn't know where their final destination was, he sensed that they were nearing the end. Despite everything, Frank felt nostalgic about the whole thing; his first encounter with Gerard in that dodgy abandoned inn, sitting half naked in the back of Bob's truck, meeting Gerard's mom. It all seemed a thousand years ago now.
And here he was, at 11:41 pm, driving to the place where all the stars shone.

Gerard's back was cramping, his legs numb, and his arms aching. His eyelids were drifting as well, but none of that mattered. In the space of a few hours they would be at their goal, and Frank would remember. Well, Gerard didn't explicitly know that Frank would remember, but Jesus fucking Christ he hoped that he would. If going there stimulated nothing within Frank at all, then this whole seven year scheme amidst other do-good assassinations would have been for nothing at all. If Gerard couldn't get the names of the people who had left Frank beaten, bloody, and on the border of death that night all those years ago, then what use was Gerard? Not much.
So through all the physical fatigue, he drove and drove for all that he was worth.

Mikey was barely awake when they hit the one-hour-to-go marker. In a haze he thought of all of the things that had happened since the last time he'd been here with his brother. He had been nineteen, and Gerard twenty-one. Now here they were, him twenty-six, Gerard closing in on thirty, and they had the boy with them that had to give them answers.
Gerard wasn't the only one that wanted to stamp out the people who had hurt Frank. Mikey had felt the ache too when he saw the boy so close to death, crying so loudly it could deafen someone.
No, Gerard wasn't the only one. Mikey was sure that if everyone knew of Frank's situation, the whole world would want to help Frank.

Adam was gagged and handcuffed, but that didn't manage to dampen his mood at all. It was like being in a movie; watching all the scenes unfold into outcomes about him. Yes, he wasn't sure if Gerard would let him go once this thing with Frank was over, and yes, maybe he had betrayed Mikey's trust when turning on Gerard. But here he was anyway, in a car with two criminals, one absolute nut-job of a kid, and a best-friend who more greatly resembled a concerned mother.
His days had never been so interesting, and he didn't want this to stop if it meant his life.

Ray was still in disbelief. He was with Frank again. Frank, who admittedly looked like he'd been to hell and back, was breathing within touching distance. Ray was beyond himself with joy.
However, that joy was somewhat overrun by the fact that he was in a car with Gerard and Mikey Way. They had been driving for nearly ten hours, and they still hadn't vocalised their destination or reason for it. Ray would just have to wait and see.
Something was different about Frank. Whether it was the way he moved, spoke, simply looked, he was different, and Ray couldn't help but think Frank was not dissimilar to when Ray had been named his guardian six years ago.
Frank had come to him in such a state; hospitalized, on every drug under the sun, and with no memory of the past three years. Ray was only just in college, but he gave it up for his best friend, who had disappeared shortly after both his parents died in a horrific car crash.
Ray would give up anything for Frank. Ray just hoped that Gerard felt the same, for whatever reasons he might have to care for the kid.
Gerard knew Frank, that was obvious enough. How though, that was beyond Ray's comprehension.

3:42 am.
Gerard pulled the car to a halt, instantly stretching out his limbs from their acquired stiffness. All of the other passengers apart from Frank had been lulled to sleep with the gentle movement of Adam's car. In fact, Gerard half hoped that Adam might even be dead. We need less baggage, Gerard mulled.
The sky was so inky and clear, Gerard could barely believe his luck. He'd told Frank back in Illinois that they were going where all the stars shone, and damn right they had. Gerard spectated the sky above Niagara Falls with nostalgic affection. They were scattered like flour along the navy canvas, twinkling like there was nothing to be stressed about in the world. It would have been beautiful, had Gerard not been here for such a morbid reason.

As soon as the car stopped, the migraines started. Frank tumbled out of the car onto a green expanse of land, which cascaded into a sudden drop about a hundred feet in front of the car. With a shock like cold water, Frank realised where they were.
Niagara Falls.
On a toilet stop between where they had found Adam, Mikey, and Ray, Frank had changed back into his hospital gown. The car had been sticky and Bob's old jeans frankly made him feel sick with mourning. However, as Frank departed the car and the freezing night air met the skin all over his body, he almost regretted his choice. The material bannered out behind his spindly legs as he limped past the car and over to an open cliff edge. The sky was so beautiful and clear. He was crying before he even thought it might happen. With blurred eyes and a lump in his throat, Frank finally let himself remember.

Gerard had been so transfixed with the stars that he had not even noticed Frank's exiting of the car. With a profound panic, he tore out of the car, desperately willing his eyes to adjust to the night light. He looked about frantically, and then he saw Frank. His heart melted in his chest.
The small, mouse brown haired boy stood at the edge of one of the cliffs, silhouetted against the starry sky. He had his arms out in a wingspan, and the hospital gown that made him look so vulnerable was whipping against him in the wind. He was crying, again.
And they were taken back in time.

Ray couldn't move. He was frozen stiff to his seat, destined to be no part in this. He sat, he waited, he watched.

Adam came back to consciousness slowly, but he knew that this was it, this was where he was meant to be. He regarded the scene just outside the window just like a movie.

Where all the stars shone.

Mikey exited the car, treading carefully to stand behind his brother.

The three men were a clip of time, taken and replayed. The criminal, dumbfounded, watching the innocent boy in pain with such remorse he felt it might eventually kill him. The brother, watching his sibling care so much so suddenly for somebody else that he knew it would hurt him. The boy, so hurt for so long that he no longer cared.
Seven years rewound.

The boy stood in a pair of ripped boxers, in utter hysterics. The gun was in his hand, but the wounds all over his emaciated body told the other two men that they were caused by another weapon. His arms were freckled with pockmarks; the clear indicator of an avid user. His back and torso were patched with bruises, and his neck was red as if he'd been strangled. His skin was red and brown and blue; all the colours of ill health, hygiene and care.
The killer stood with teeth gritted. He could not move too quickly, or he might shock the boy. Although it didn't seem that the naked boy had been outside much, he might have seen Gerard Way's face on the news. The boy was crying so hard it ripped him apart inside.
The brother watched the killer's face grow sterner. Something relevant was about to unfold.
The boy turned to face his company.
The killer frowned. “What are you doing out here, like that? You'll catch your death.”
The brother waited, nervous. He was only nineteen. Most nineteen year olds didn't have to deal with crazy boys on a cliff edge clutching a gun.
The boy took a few wobbling steps to face the other men, his eyes bulging out of his skull. “I'm not already dead?” He sounded wounded by the notion.
He's high, the killer noted. “Put the gun down, kid.” The boy's eyes made him physically melt. He felt a familiar hardening in his crotch. Fucking hell, not the time.
The boy stared at them for a while longer until saying, “They thought they'd killed me, then. They left me here,” he looked down at his bruised body, his nose wrinkling again, “they left me here like this.”
The killer took a few light steps towards the boy, but that only resulted in the boy's gun being pointed towards him. He took a few steps back to his brother, raking a hand through his black hair. “Woah, I'm not here to hurt you, kiddo. What's your name?”
The boy shook his head. “I don't know,” and the water works began again. “I don't fucking know anything any more.”
The brother watched on with concern.
The killer took a few more gentle steps closer to the cliffs edge. “Just please, put the gun do-”
Bang! A gunshot.
The boy screamed and fell.
“Fuck!” The killer screamed before running over, frantically touching the boy over to see where he had hurt himself. With relief, he saw a growing pool of red about the boy's right foot. “Mikey, grab a shirt or something!”
The brother turned to grapple frantically in their mother's car, and only found a picnic blanket in the boot. He hurried it over to the boy and his brother.
“Call an ambulance,” the killer breathed, stroking the boy's beautiful, innocent face. It was wet with tears and blood.
The brother looked incredulous. “We can't, Gee. They'll recognise us.”
The killer looked about with wild eyes. He turned back to the boy and shook him gently to open his eyes. “Kid, you have family?”
The boy began to cry again. For a moment he made solid eye contact with the killer. His eyes were so weak, so helpless, so needy. So, so drugged. “I don't have anything,” he whimpered.
The killer ran his hands through his hair again. Decidedly, he turned back to his brother. “Take your glasses off and find someone. Someone surely heard the shot.”
“We aren't near any of the tourist spots, that was the idea...”
“Just fucking find someone, dammit!” The killer screamed.
And the brother ran.
The boy couldn't feel his wounded foot; the drugs took care of that. “The stars are nice,” he said softly.
The killer looked down at him and began to cradle his thin frame in his arms. “This is where all the stars shine.” He stroked a brown, bloody curl off the boys forehead. “What's your name? You're so pretty.” The killer chuckled.
“I don't have a name.”
They sat there for a few minutes before the boy spoke again.
“I know one thing. They had me for a very long time.” The boy looked curiously up at the killer. “They hurt me too, and they put stuff in me that made me feel floppy so they could do other stuff.”
Blood began to pulse in the killers ears. “Who did? What other stuff?”
But the boy was nearly unconscious. “You're pretty too. Like the stars.” And then he fell asleep in the killers arms, his foot bleeding into the picnic blanket whilst goosebumps washed over the rest of his bare skin.
When the brother returned with a plump, middle-aged Canadian lady, the killer made sure to keep his face down.
When the ambulance arrived, the brother gave his account without his glasses on.
When the boy was driven away, the brother and the killer sat down and recalled all the information they could.
Back in their mom's car, the killer knew he had to do something more. He could still feel the boy's crusted but soft hair between his fingers, and his bony arms wrapped around his chest.

They were thrown back to present day.
Frank still stood bawling, his hospital gown nearly flying off him due to the wind picking up so suddenly. Gerard felt another lump expand in his throat. Mikey stood back, waiting for someone to move.
Frank fell to his knees.
Gerard's first instinct was to run to him, but it was important that Frank remembered. And to remember, he had to be in the same place he had been in all those years ago.

Frank no longer cared if the hospital garment did fly off him. His head was beginning to pound. Not again, no, not again, he thought angrily. But the seizure took hold of him anyway. His muscles began to clench, his chest began to tear open, his heart began to beat so fast he could barely breathe. He was beginning to suffocate, and his arms were bleeding, and his eyes were twisting and his world was turning upside down when-
It all stopped.
His big, round eyes batted open to look about him. The sky was the same shade of blue, the stars the same bright white.
Then he was thrown back again.

The boy was in the boot when Kel and Trent arrived at Niagara Falls. Hurriedly, shushed, they scuttled about to the back of the car and flung the door open. Frank tumbled out, unconscious, dead. Kel, the one with the greasy pushover hair, seemed unfazed by the situation. Trent, however, the taller of the two, seemed absolutely horrified.
“Is he definitely dead?” Trent bit his lip as they both dragged Frank to the cliff edge; Trent by the feet, Kel by the hands.
Kel stopped in a huff. He picked up one arm, and let it drop to the grassy ground. “Does that look fucking alive to you?” He smirked.
Trent shurgged.
As they began to shuffle again, Kel chuckled. “We fucked him to death.”
They were metres away from the edge when they both froze. They looked down, hearts racing as they saw the boy begin to wriggle. “What, where-”
“Throw him!” Kel screamed.
“But he's alive! We can't-” Trent cried.
“Fucking do-”
“You two! You boys!” In a panic, Kel and Trent turned to see a lady in the distance pointing at them. “What are you doing with that kid?!”
Kel looked at the boy again, who was writhing on the ground. He looked back up at Trent. “Run.”

The boy was barely conscious when he picked himself up of the ground and watched the wrecked truck began to trundle away, taking Kel and Trent with it.
With the very little energy he had, he began to run. Without them, he had no drugs. Without drugs, he wouldn't live. “K-kel!” He bleated, tripping over a jutting stone. “Trent!” He called, crying out for the men that had put a roof over his head for years now.
He fell to his knees, and noticed with a strange shock that there was a gun shoved in his boxers; the only garment covering him. He picked it up, his eyes dribbling salty tears, his lips quivering. The boy turned the gun about in his hands. “C-come back.” He cried again before another car pulled up beside him.

“Come back!” Frank cried out, his hospital gown beginning to undo, his boxers underneath starting to show. He turned to Gerard, seemingly misplaced. “They hurt me and they left me, Gerard! They hurt me!”
The sound of his name was enough for Gerard to give in to his instincts. He ran over to the boy, who was on his knees, and held him as close to himself as he dared. Frank was crying so violently Gerard thought his throat might rip.

Mikey, Ray, and Adam watched from the car; boy and killer embraced on the edge of a cliff. It was an identical image as it had been years ago, Mikey recalled. Gerard so helpless, Frank even more in need.
God above, Mikey thought, you can never really help anyone, can you?

“Just give me their names, please, Frankie,” Gerard began to cry, his chest shuddering. Bob used to call him Frankie, Gerard thought achingly, if only he could be here.
Frank nodded, biting his lip. “They just, they ruined me, Gee.”
Gerard felt for Frank's chin, and lifted the boy's head so he faced him. “Them doing that meant that you met me.”
Frank squeezed his eyes closed, the image of the stars printed in his eyelids. “Kel,” he blurted, “and Trent. That was their names.”
Gerard froze. Finally, he thought. After seven years, I know.
Gerard moved so that he was crouching before Frank where he sat. He wasn't ready to leave the boy, but he had to search for Frank's abusers, and he had to leave now. “Listen, kid,” Gerard's tone aroused a panic in Frank.
“What is it, Gerard?” He grabbed like a child onto his sleeve. He looked at Gerard and back at Mikey and the road, putting two and two together. “You're, you're not leaving me now, are you?”
Gerard didn't reply, but stared soullessly back at Frank.
Frank should his head. “You can't, not after all this-”
“It's for the best, Frankie,” Gerard stroked Frank's hair as he just so fucking loved to do. “You can go back to Ray, and you'll live a normal life.” He offered a smile.
Frank's face crumpled like paper. “I don't want a normal life! I want you!” Frank's desperation was clear in his voice.
Gerard ignored his own tears. “You're gonna be so happy, Frankie, because those men that hurt you? I'm gonna make sure they never do it again.”
But Frank wasn't listening. “You're leaving me, after trying to kill my best friend, kidnapping me, and taking me back here? And you made me fall in love with you and now you're going to leave!”
Gerard's heart stopped. Never in a million years did he expect his love for Frank to be anything but unrequited. “You what?”
Frank froze momentarily, as if realizing what he had just admitted. However, he seemed to throw all caution to the wind. “I love you, Gerard!”
Gerard's mouth went dry. He looked down at Frank in shock. “You, you can't love me, Frank-”
“Why not?” Frank asked frustratedly.
“Because,” Gerard raked his hair again, looking on edge. “Because I'm not good Frank! I'm a bad person!” And once again, Gerard Way was reduced to tears.
Frank looked calculating up at Gerard. “We very rarely fall in love with good people.”
And Gerard fell to his knees, crying violently. “Look at me, Frank,” he begged.
Frank did.
They looked at each other for minutes, simply appreciating each other, speaking a silent language of caring. Dark eyes bore into light eyes. They drank in each other's faces.
After the moment ended and they broke the eye contact, Gerard looked nervously about his feet. “You will see me again, Frankie. This isn't forever.”
Although Frank's chest gaped open, he pushed his need of Gerard down for a while. Of all the questions he'd asked himself over the past month, he only wanted, only needed the answer to one. “Gee?”
Gerard looked back at Frank, eyes wide as a child's.
“Do,” Frank gathered up his nerves, “do you love me then? Do you love me back?”
But Gerard Way said nothing more to Frank Iero.
Instead, he leant forwards and made Frank's fantasies a reality. Quickly, sweetly, cooly, passionately, Gerard pressed his smooth lips against Frank's chapped ones. Both their eyes batted closed. Gerard tasted of smoke and coffee, and Frank tasted of tears and night air. Frank sighed into the kiss, his heart beating out of his chest. Timidly, he brought a gentle hand to cradle Gerard's face, but before Frank could touch him, Gerard pulled softly away.
With one last, long, meaningful look, Gerard was retreating back to Mikey, leaving Frank forlorn and lost under the starry night sky.
As if Gerard's lips had been a pillow, Frank fell asleep there and then, right below where all the stars shone.
*
When Frank woke up in hospital, he was nothing other than disappointed.
For the past month, he had been on the ride of his life, the ride of his love. He had been with Gerard and Bob everyday, finding out something more every time he woke up. Now, he was in a hospital bed with Ray asleep in the chair beside him, as if nothing had changed since his last check up with Dr. Whitedale. There were tubes in his arms and nose, for what reason he was unaware. Every few hours a nurse would walk in with a clipboard, take down a few rushed notes, then leave again.
It was when Frank woke up for the seventh time that he found the crumpled note beneath his languid wrist.
Wrinkling his nose in confusion, his hands beginning to shake, Frank unfolded the crumpled piece of lined paper. With sore eyes he read the spidery writing;

Dearest Frankie,
You were pretty out of it when the ambulance arrived. I didn't wanna ruin everything, so I didn't say goodbye.
But what'd be the point of that, eh? You'll see me again.
I guess I should say sorry, for everything, shooting your pet afro, kidnapping you in the night... but you had a good time, yeah? Well, as good a time as you could have done with a killer and his hillbilly truck driver.
I said I would see you again. You know where I'm going and what I'm going to do. But with my usual good luck, it shouldn't take me too long to stink out the bastards. So why don't we make a tradition of this thing, eh?
Seven years from now, same date as yesterday -or however many days it's been since you were in hospital- I will meet you back where all the stars shone. Is that a deal? I guess I won't know till then.
I long to see your pretty face again, Frankie.

Gerard.

Frank's heart caught in his mouth, and tears started to stream from his eyes once again. As he continued to read, a small, controlled giggle escaped his mouth.

PS: And I swear, kid, if you tell them what me and Mikey have gone to do, I might just kill you the next time I kidnap you, Iero.

Ray stirred beside him.

So as I said, that was awfully written, but the epilogue will hopefully be somewhat better. I'm really going to miss your readership and I really really appreciate all your support and bothering to read my crappy fanfiction.
Love you!