FicWad

Chapter 5 - Enemy Fire

I should point out that I don't often get emotional. However that said, when I do I tend to go all out.

Tears, snot, hiccups, the lot.

Sat in my bunk, surrounded by tissues I tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Syd had made it personal.

Syd had deleted complex programs from my light system.

Syd had laughed at my downfall.

Syd had better watch her back.

Didn't she understand that my work meant something to me? Didn't she see that something's are sacred? Didn't she get that she'd crossed the line this time?

Yeah okay so maybe messing around with her sounds before qualifies as fucking around with her job aswel. Perhaps I did deserve what I got. But still, I'm screwed now aren't I? Matt's going to be so pissed off; I wouldn't be surprised if he fired me on the spot when he finds out that I left mid performance.

Fuck.

Getting up from my bunk I opened the curtains, scattering tissues behind me as I jumped down.

I think I might go and hide somewhere. Childish? Perhaps, but I really don't want to be here when Matt comes looking for me.

Walking through the bus I made my way towards the door, snatching up a pack of Joe's cigarettes and a lighter on my way past the table.

A few minutes later I found myself standing outside of the tent that housed my babies; my cannons. Flipping open the tent flaps I walked inside and let out a sigh of relief. Safety...security...

It's probably abit sad that I take comfort being surrounded by large objects that shoot confetti everywhere. I think it's because they remind me of home or at least of how far I've come in the past few years. It's weird isn't it? The things that trigger off memories.

Back in Sheffield I spent most of my young life living in the shadow of my perfect, over achieving sister, Meredith. She did everything right, everything my parents wanted her to do; Great job, nice husband, a kid, typical suburban house including white picket fence. Not my idea of a life but she seems to like it.

We aren't exactly close; perhaps you can tell?! Being ten years older than me I think I got stuck with the 'annoying baby sister' tag when I was born and never got rid of it. Even with my first class degree and good reputation in the business she still looks at my job as 'a fleeting escape from reality'.

Don't get me wrong, I know I'm spinning this as some great sob story but it's really not like that. My parents were supportive, I never felt neglected or unloved or any of that shit. Merry's opinion has never really bothered me because in all honesty, can a bored, stay at home housewife really judge me?

No. Infact I think if anything, having her be so opposed to my career and life choices has probably made me stronger. After all, you don't get anywhere in this business if you take to heart every bad thing people say or do to you.

I snorted loudly. Perhaps I should take my own advice?

Sitting on a large empty cannon box, my legs dangling off the edge, I pulled out the pack of Marlboro Red and lit one up.

Taking a drag I closed my eyes and let the nicotine spread through me. Not as good as caffeine but pretty damn close.

The low buzzing of screaming fans in the distance told me that someone at least had fixed the lights. Shaking my head sadly I took another drag and tried not to think about it.

I hope Syd's happy now; she's ruined my fucking life.

Okay...so perhaps a little dramatic but still; Matt's never going to hire me again. Infact no one will ever hire me again once this all gets out.

Dropping my head into my hands I groaned loudly as the severity of the situation hit me. My careers fucking over. What the hell will I do now? I'll have to go work in McDonalds as a burger flipper or something. Maybe I could run away to the circus? They have special effects and stuff, plus they always accept waifs and strays into their group don't they? Although knowing my luck, especially at the moment, I'd probably get eaten by a lion or something.

Okay I really need to stop over thinking everything. I'm healthy, I'm young, life isn't so bad...who the fuck am I kidding?

"Leo...?"

I looked up sharply and froze as Frank stepped into the tent. How do people always find me?

He was out of breath and still dressed in his performance gear. As he walked towards me I registered concern and maybe relief flickering behind his eyes but brushed it off quickly.

"Come to kick me while I'm down?" I asked bitterly as I stubbed out my cigarette and lit up another.

Guilt marred his handsome face and he stopped a foot or so away from me, his features conflicted.

"No," He said shaking his head firmly, "I was worried about you...I just...I..."

Rubbing his hands together nervously he moved a little closer and I watched him warily.

"Yeah right." I snorted loudly, "I don't think it's supposed to work that way Frank. Cruelty and remorse don't usually go together."

He flinched at my words and looked down at the floor.

"I didn't realise what Syd had done...if I'd have known..."

I cut in quickly interrupting him.

"You'd have what? Stopped it all? Called the prank off? I find that hard to believe somehow. Just leave me alone Frank." I said wearily, all the fight gone out of me.

I didn't really expect him to leave and so it wasn't really a surprise when he jumped up and sat beside me.

"Leave me alone." I repeated with a sigh as I blew out a long stream of smoke.

"No." He replied firmly. Reaching into his far too tight jeans, he pulled out his own packet of cigarettes and proceeded to light his own.

Stubborn tosser.

Deciding that the only option left was to ignore him; I turned and looked pointedly in the other direction. Concentrating on the repetitive hand to mouth motion and listening to the faint echoes of the crowds.

"I didn't know you smoked." Frank said suddenly breaking the silence.

"Why would you?" I replied blankly, "We haven't exactly spent any quality time together."

"Yeah but I mean...its just...I..."

He was stuttering. Why was he stuttering? It made him look and sound like an idiot.

"What do you want Frank?" I asked finally after a few minutes of unpleasant silence filled with awkward glances and avoidance.

He looked uncomfortable and I registered abruptly that we were sat quite close together, our legs touching.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay." He stated quietly, his face turning a light shade of red.

It felt suddenly as if we were far too close together and the sincerity in his voice only heightened the feeling.

God. I'm so bloody fickle. One minute I hate him, the next I'm back to being unsure of how I feel. Idiot.

"Why?" I asked, my eyes locking with his.

"You were crying Leo." He said softly, his warm brown eyes filled with concern.

Ah. I looked down at my swinging feet in embarrassment. I had hoped that no one had noticed that. Damn.

"Yeah well if I went and smashed up all your guitars I'd imagine you'd be upset too." I said defensively.

Mirroring my earlier actions I saw him look down awkwardly. His dark hair falling into his eyes as he once more began to fiddle with his hands.

We sat in silence again; the only sounds our gentle breathing as we made our way through our cigarettes.

"This place is abit creepy."

Frank seemed determined to make conversation even if his earlier attempts had ended up awkward and stunted.

It was true that the large, mis-match of boxes and effects oddments, stacked in odd piles and heaps casting eerie shadows on the thin tent walls, could be thought of as creepy. The light from outside did cast a strange glow as it reflected off bits of glass and metal scattered around the tent but to me it was comforting.

"One person's creepy, is another person's sanctuary." I replied with a small smile.

"I mean I get the whole attraction of the cannon's; anything that explodes is automatically cool in my books."

I felt my mouth twitch upwards involuntarily as his face lit up in enthusiasm.

"But come on, you shouldn't be sitting here in the dark."

"Well where do you suggest I sit?" I asked raising an eyebrow, curious as to where he would suggest.

"Err...well..." He mumbled, clearly taken aback that I'd given him an actual reply and not simply told him to fuck off.

"Well...err not here!" he said grinning.

"Thanks, that was really useful advice." I said sarcastically, smiling once more at him even though I knew I shouldn't be.

He laughed deeply and I could feel the vibrations through our gently touching legs.

Stubbing out my second cigarette of the night I absentmindedly leant over Frank to throw it in the bin. I ignored the fact that our chests were now brushing together and took aim for the bin. Over estimating the shot, my hand slipped out from under me and I wobbled off the box with a yelp.

A pair of strong hands grabbed hold of my shoulders and held me steady as I righted myself, my face burning with embarrassment.

"Steady on." Frank said his voice still tinged with laughter.

Too close...too close...we were much too close together now. My chest pressed firmly into his, our legs entwined, his hands still gripping my shoulders tightly. One of my hands lay resting on his thigh, the other holding on tightly to the edge of the box we were sat on.

The whole situation was highly suggestive, like something right out of a cheesy movie.

Don't look at him...do not look at him. Shit. Too late. Our eyes locked and the intensity heightened to an unbearable level.

Neither of us had moved and it was pretty damn obvious what was about to happen.

Our faces were already inches apart and Frank closed the gap cautiously, one hand moving from my shoulder to gently cradle my face. Closing my eyes I lent into him and just as I felt our lips gently brush together a rustling of tent material had me snapping my eyes open, pulling away from him and springing off the box as if I'd been electrified.

Fuck. I just caught a blur of movement flash past the open flap of the tent. Shit. Someone saw me...saw me...o god. I just kissed Frank. God what's wrong with me? I don't even like him, no definitely not. Bugger.

Grabbing my fags I walked quickly out the tent, ignoring Franks wide eyed look of hurt and confusion with a heavy heart.

Now who's hurting who? I don't think any of us know anymore.

X

After finding Leo and Frank together, I spent the rest of my night holed up in my bunk with a 6-pack of Pepsi Max and a Gameboy. But I couldn't sleep, which of course had nothing to do with the copious amounts of caffeine ingested.

All I could think of was Leo, Frank and Matt. I totally screwed up and have probably put both mine and Leo's jobs on the line. I may be good at my job, but I'm easily replaceable. There must be hundreds of people far better than me just itching to get an opportunity like this.

And I fucked it up. Go me.

Plus how could Frank just go running to Leo like that? I know she was upset, but come on; she's made our lives hell for the past 2 weeks.

It was a little past 6am when I crept out of my bunk. I'd found out that we were by a dirt track and I needed to blow off some steam. There's nothing that makes you feel freer than leaping through the still air of a cool summer dawn. I slipped on my knee and elbow guards quickly. Picking up my helmet and gloves I wheeled the bike past all the parked buses, not wanting to wake up any hung over rock divas.

As I reached the track I stopped momentarily as I noticed a figure in the distance.

I could see Pete sat over on a small ridge. Stupid emo prick. I bet he's sat there mulling over some deep philosophical theory like the pretentious, anal retentive wanker that he is.

I'll give him something to look at.

I kick started Craig, revving up before tearing off down the first slope. Yes my bike is called Craig. Don't ask. As I hit the first ramp, I got a good 15ft jump, landing on the back wheel. The upgraded suspension finally getting a proper test since I fitted them.

Pulling a sharp right I went onto the rhythm section, riding with ease. This track wasn't so hard. Approaching the next dirt ramp I decided to bring out a few tricks. As I took off, I did a fender touch before landing on the pegs. Grabbing hold of the bars as the bikes
front fought back against the landing I kicked myself for being so out of practice. Maybe I should have gone grabbed my boots before I came out?

No. No doubts. I know I can do this. I beat Danny on every track we raced. Ignoring the burning as my cut knuckles opened up with every clench of my hand, I revved up and launched up the second biggest ramp.

As I took off, I pulled off a near perfect can can, landing it dead center. I can't believe it! There's nothing better than landing a trick. I couldn't help but whoop and do a victory wheelie. Circling round to the biggest ramp, with my new found confidence, I went for a no footed can can. As I got my feet back on the pegs, the back tyre hit the dirt first. But as the front landed, the wheel went straight through the axle. As the now wheel-less forks dug in to the ground, I flipped over, crashing to the floor.

"FUUUCK!" I groaned as I hit the ground.

Shoving the bike off me I cold feel hot liquid running down my leg. As I sat up I saw a small trail of blood dripping from a gash in my calf. I slammed my head back to the ground, laying there gathering my nerves, mentally berating myself for being stupid enough to not wear my boots.

I could hear the footfalls of someone running towards me. Oh great, I bet its Pete come to mock me and admire his handy work. I know that bike was 100% safe; I checked it after my escapades the other day. FUCKING BASTARDS. This really has gone too far, they could have fucking killed me.

Pete skidded to a halt next to me and bent down. For a split second I almost thought I saw concern in his features. I must have hit my head harder than I thought.

"Shit, are you aright?" He asked quickly.

"Fuck off you prick." I said as I threw my gloves at him, trying to get to my feet. Pete reached out to grab my arm and stay me but I shoved him away.

"Get off me you asshole. Have you come to laugh at me? Shove me down a ramp? Come to see if you can make me cry? What's the deal? Does it make you feel like a big man trying to KILL someone?! Sick revenge for last night?" I snapped furiously.

By now I had hopped over to get right in Pete's face, not daring to put any weight on my leg. Shoving him back with increasing force after each sentence.

"What do you mean? Why would I want to kill you? I came over because I saw you spill and thought you were injured." He said as he gently took hold of my shoulders and sat me down.

Confused I slumped to the floor, pulling off my helmet and resting my head in my hands. I couldn't read Pete's emotions. He seemed genuine, but his face was unreadable.

"Well I don't know why. But tampering with my bike is low even for pond scum like you. You don't have to protect Leo; I know who put you up to it." I glared up at him, eyes blazing.

"I swear I didn't tamper with anything. And Leo certainly wouldn't do anything like this. Look, I don't mean any harm. Quite the opposite." Pete said as he gave me a small smile, glancing me up and down before resting his eyes on my leg. I'll admit it was un-nerving.

"Here." He said as he pulled of his tee-shirt and bent down, making a temporary bandage around my leg. I hadn't realized how deep it was. Must have been the foot pegs.

I looked up at him and nearly kicked myself for admiring his very toned chest and the amazing ink that adorned his tanned skin. Fuck. This is not happening.

He was on his knees, half smiling at me from under his floppy bangs, meeting my gaze. Damn his eyes looked incredible. I've always had a 'thing' for eyes. GOD DAMN IT! This stops right now. He's the uptight showoff prick that's been tormenting us for weeks.

"Ur, thanks." I went to get up but he put a hand on my shoulder.

"You're not walking anywhere. That's gunna need stitches. I'll call the medics in." He said firmly.

"Seriously I'm fi...." I protested.

He put his hand up as he put his phone to his ear, which I batted away in return. No-one gives me the hand.

"Hi Steve, Wentz here. I'm out..." Pete went quiet; bringing his phone down to look at the screen.

"Out of battery. Damn it. It's the last time I let Trick play on it." He said with a sigh.

I couldn't help but laugh at the situation.

"What's so funny?" He asked looking at me curiously.

"This." I said spreading my arms out and looking toward the sky, "Everything. I'm stuck on a dirt track with a bleeding leg and the only person who can help me is the enemy in a prank war and now the phone just died."

Pete was now sat down, a warm grin adorning his features.

"So you admit you need help?" He asked. Smart ass.

"No. I may have to leave my bike, but I can get back to the bus fine." I replied smartly as I went to stand up again but as soon as my foot touched the floor I could feel the wound opening under the pressure of my contracting calf muscles and my leg buckled. Pete leapt up grabbing me and pulling me into him. Nice.

Wait no! No it's not. Zack Vengance...Jason Statham...Colin Farrell...but definitely not Pete Wentz.

"I don't think you're going anywhere. And if your not going to accept my help willingly, I'll just have to use force. Now do I give you fireman or bridal?" Pete paused and put a finger on his lips and a hand on his hip as if to emphasize he was deep in thought. Prick.

"Bridal." He said after a moments drawn out consideration.

Before I could protest, Pete scooped me up and began carrying me bridal style back towards the buses.

It was a good ten minute walk back, and after 5 minutes the silence was deafening. Even the birds were quiet as the sun made its way over the surrounding treetops. I couldn't stand it any more and begrudgingly made conversation.

"So, what were you doing at a dirt track at 6am?" I asked noticing how his smile dropped at my question.

"Thinking." He replied.

"You mean feeling sorry for yourself. Poor little rich boy rock star can't figure out what to spend his money on. What's today's dilemma? What color trim to get in your new hummer?" I cajoled.

"Its not like that" His voice was quiet and he was watching the ground intently. I felt a pang of guilt. My verbal attack was unprovoked and I'd clearly struck a nerve.

"Sorry, that was uncalled for." I said softly.

"No. I've heard it all before. Everyone thinks just cos I have a great job and have enough money to live a comfortable life, that I have nothing to complain about and that I'm just being all morose for the press attention. But its hard sometimes ya'know? I barely see my family. I can never tell if a relationship is real or if she's just another gold digger. It's like I'm in a room full of people but completely alone." Pete said honestly. He was completely opening up and I admit I felt pretty shitty for judging him so quickly.

"You're not the only one." I said looking right into his eyes. They were so open, so full of emotion; he didn't or couldn't hide how he felt. He really is Peter Pan; A lost boy.

"Everyone I know and love is back in Jersey. No-one will speak to me apart from MCR because of this stupid war. My friends are only interested in free tickets and any relationship I've had never lasts. I love my job too much and work insane hours getting tracks down. And now I'm on tour. Stu couldn't take it any more and I had no choice but to follow my career."

Today must be the first time I've told anyone about Stu. He worked in a guitar store the studio used. After a lot of chance meetings we finally got together. He didn't care what hours I worked or what time I called round, as long as we both treasured the time we spent together. But once he found out about the tour, he said he wanted out of the relationship.

He didn't understand. Touring was my goal in life. I didn't have a choice. I love my job too much to throw it away for a man. If Stu couldn't accept that then there wasn't really any point in us staying together. Understanding that fact though didn't stop it from hurting.

Pete continued our trek back to the medic's trailer, his grip seeming to become stronger after our brief tête-à-tête. The rest of the journey I was silent, thinking over what Pete had said. It was like he was on the same wave length. I rested my head on his shoulder in an attempt to stop my head spinning, I hadn't lost that much blood had I? Closing my eyes, I listened to his slightly ragged breathing, finding it oddly calming.

Once we got to the trailer Pete sat me down and said he would go tell Brian where I was. He knew full well that no-one from MCR would piss on him if he caught fire, let alone listen to him.

Lying back on the small put up bed I tried to organize my muddled thoughts. Pete being nice? Leo and Frank? Possibly getting fired tomorrow? What's going on?

I have never wanted a cigarette so bad in my life.