FicWad

Flushing the toilet, Frank collapsed back against the wall, drained and exhausted.
“I’m serious, Frank,” Mikey nodded, his decision made.
Looking up at Mikey, he saw a look in the young man’s eyes that he had never seen before. Mikey always gave the impression of being so gentle and fragile. Perhaps it was just because he was so slender, or overshadowed as the younger brother of a much more forthright individual? Frank wasn’t sure if either of those possibilities were true, but at the moment the impression he was receiving was that Mikey truly meant what he said.
“Mikey?”
The young man fell silent as Frank watched him unsure of what to say. Too many thoughts were racing around his head, too much pain, too much anger. He wanted to scream, to kick, to punch and yes, there was a part of him that wanted to go much further. The image of his brother lying bound and beaten into unconsciousness on the floor wouldn’t leave him.
“I’m sure Gerard would say exactly the same if the position was reversed.” Both musicians stared at Sam as he reached down to help Frank to his feet. “But right now, we have to concentrate on getting him back. Now, I’m going to make you both something to eat…”
“I’m not hungry,” Mikey cut in.
“I don’t care!” Sam replied stern but not harsh. “You’ll eat because you have to, not because you want to.”
“You haven’t eaten all day, Mikey,” Frank added.
“A lot of good eating did you!” Mikey snapped in return pointing to the toilet.
“You’re both eating.”
Frank frowned unhappily. “I really don’t think I can, Sam.”
Sam gently steered Mikey out of the bathroom.
“Just something light,” he smiled kindly. “I’ll make you some soup and crackers. Now, clean up and we’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes.”
Frank shook his head tiredly. “I gotta phone Brian… and Ray… and… something else, I think.”
Sam looked at each of them – pale with half-closed eyes that displayed a bewildered glaze. They were completely frazzled; the mounting stress and worry had exhausted them utterly.
“No, I’ll do that, you need to eat something and rest. That’s what I’m here for, remember? Protection isn’t just beating up the bad guys.”
Frank smiled faintly, relieved to have some of the immediate pressure lifted.
“Thanks, Sam, I’ll be down in a minute.”

*

A low moan escaped Gerard’s lips as he began to wake. Every inch of him ached even before he tried to move. He soon realised that there would be no further test of how injured he was; he was still strapped into the straitjacket and his legs tightly bound. All that had changed was the gag had been removed. Opening his eyes proved difficult, badly swollen and encrusted with blood, even when he finally succeeded his vision was hazy.

“Do you want some water?”
Slowly turning his head, Gerard made out the outline of Kay sitting nearby on a chair.
“Yeah,” he croaked.
“Manners?”
Gerard’s shoulders shook partly with anger, partly with despair. He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘please’ to her but he desperately needed something for his parched throat.
“Doesn’t matter,” she replied almost sympathetically as she moved to kneel at his side. Placing a hand behind his head, she tipped a cup towards him, and with a finger angled the straw into his mouth. “Sip it,” she added.
Gerard’s face contorted with pain as he sucked up the water, coughing as the water mixed with the dried blood in his mouth leaving behind a foul metallic taste.
“Take it easy,” she warned removing the cup but still supporting his head.
“What are you doing?” he whispered hoarsely.
“What do you mean?” she answered, puzzled by the question as she placed the straw to his lips again.
“Being nice to me.”
Kay laughed. “No, just protecting my investment. If we need to prove you’re okay, we need you able to speak, don’t we? Perhaps you don’t realise; alive, you’re worth six million dollars to us.”
Gerard took another sip of water. He had a feeling that once the cup was removed, it would be a long time until another would be offered.
“Does that door lock?”
“That’s a strange question,” she commented moving the cup away and resting his head back down on the floor. With a damp wad of cotton wool, she gently sponged the worst of the caked on blood from Gerard’s eyes and face. “Why do you want to know?”
“Do you have to keep me tied up?” Gerard asked quietly.
“Yeah, we do.” Kay laughed softly. “You cause enough problems even tied up. Last time we just had you locked up, you got free and tried to escape. We can’t risk that again, there’s six million at stake here, so your comfort falls way down the list of priorities.”
Gerard paused. He wanted to ask the next question but dreaded the answer.
“When they’ve paid the ransom, are you going to let me go?”
Kay looked down at the singer, he was frightened; she could see that now. For all his earlier bravado, the beating had drained him physically and mentally and stripped his emotions bare. She felt he knew the answer to the question already.
“Gerard, you’ve seen us, you know what we look like, what our names are. What do you think?”