Let Art Be Our Weapon: Frerard/Killjoys Epic

Cancer

          Dr. Connors takes off the bindings. It's been three weeks and every morning, the same procedure. I've become so weak though that I can't get up and fight anymore. At this point, I let them lock my arms down. Frank or Mikey stay with me always. Whoever's here tries to calm me down. I'm so weak and exhausted I let them stab me and drain the fluids that have built up over night. I may be tired but I'm no less petrified. They say if you face your fears, you get over them. I only hate needles more than before.
"Is he at least getting better?" Mikey calls out.
Connors stops at the door. He knows that I can put two and two together and doesn't need to hide it from me, which I can see it pains him. "I'm afraid not. He's only getting worse," he says.
"Then why keep torturing me if it's not going to save me?" I croak. My voice is dead from screaming. It burns so badly but no matter what I do or what happens, I still freak out and can't help but to scream until it's over.
"To give you more time," he says, walking out.
Mikey looks at me. "You don't need to give me the same speech about how I should've been more careful. I should've died out there anyway," I mutter.
"I know. Ray told me." We sit in silence. I'm so tired. I can barely sleep and it's impossible to eat. I'm dying. There's no other way to put it. Whatever got infected in my wound poisoned my bloodstream. It's killing me from the inside. I don't know what's worse. Getting shot in combat and dying without knowing it's the end and you left everything in your life unfinished. Or dying like this, slowly and painfully, knowing that it's the end just waiting for it to come but at least having a heads up to finish everything you need to before you go.
All that's there is to save me is medicine we don't have. A year or two ago, there was a chemical attack on the base. After they killed all the Dracs, the Killjoys in close combat were dying. They were infected and used the last of that medicine to save them. Of those Killjoys was Mikey and Bonnie. I don't regret them using ever last drop. I haven't seen Ray around a lot. He and Wanda study maps of the zones, trying to locate where to find the supplies. They are convinced that there is a way to save me. I want to believe it but I don't want to have false hope. I tell myself he and the others are in denial but nevertheless, they still looks for potential supply stocks. BL/ind stocks stores for the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ Unit. When we went into that facility three weeks ago, we realized they know. BL/ind for the longest time has known about a few rouges that defy the Society but recently they realize those rogues are apart of the Killjoys and they've set up a unit to exterminate us. Korse is the executor that is directs the Unit. Though we blew up a base, I doubt that's the last we've seen of them. It takes a lot more power to bring down that size of Unit. Korse may still be alive even.
Frank comes in the room. "Mikey, may I have a moment with your brother?" he asks. Mikey nods, getting up from the chair. "Oh, and go find Ray," he calls out as he leaves. Frank walks over to my bed.
"Could you get me a drink of water?" I ask. My raspy voice is hallow and disturbs me hearing myself talk. "'Cause my lips are chapped and faded. And maybe it'll help."
"Yeah, sure," he chokes. He pours a glass of water and hands it to me. My hands shake as I put it to my lips.
"Frank?"
"Yeah?" he asks looking up at me. He takes the glass when I finish it.
"When I die,"
"No," he cuts me off. "Don't talk like that. I can't bare it."
"Bury me in black."
He stops and looks at me. I see his happy self flash a little when the edges of his lips curl. "So all your favorite colors?" he whispers. It's the kind of joke that's too funny to not laugh but also too painful to not cry. He stares at me, looking at the mess I have become. I've lost too much weight to the point I'm just skin stretched over bone. I lost all my red hair and my face is sunken in, ghostly white. Frank tried to make me feel less out of place. One of the first obvious signs was I was going to lose was all my hair. He got a buzz cut the next day. It's grown out a little. I convinced him to not cut his hair again, although the new look does suit him. Ray got me a red bandanna to keep my look. A while back I would wear it but I don't have the energy to anymore. I saw my reflection a few days ago. I look terrible. I can't look in a mirror anymore. I hate what I've become. I'm staring at a skull, vacant eyes and my skin hasn't seen the light of day in so long. That's the last time I will ever look at myself. I am sick of seeing my face, but I guess I'm allowed to be sick seeing my face 'cause it's my fucking face. You know what I'm saying? I've most definitely gotten worse looking over the few days that past since I've seen myself. I wish I could hide behind my hair but it's all gone. I want to put a pillow case over my head but they'd think that I'm having another panic attack trying to kill myself. They don't understand I hate the way I look. I don't want them to see me like this. Maybe there's another way to continue living and be able to hide my face but nothing comes to mind.
"Turn away," I order but it sounds more like a plead.
"Why?" Frank asks.
"Because- 'cause I'm awful just to see." Frank opens his mouth to try and argue but I don't let him. "All of my hair abandoned all my body. I'm hallow and brittle. I am a mess. I look like death. When I die, I don't want THIS to be how you remember me," I say.
Frank does his best not to cry. He's done a lot of that lately, between losing Woody and now me; he's cried more in these last three weeks that I recall him ever. "Gee, does it hurt?" he asks painfully.
"Oh, the agony. I'll let you know that I'm in no hurry, I'm just soggy from the needles. But I might as well be dead, because counting down the days until I go, it just ain't living." Franks eyes are wide with concern, knowing that I'm suffering but there's nothing he can do. "But I just hope you know that hardest part about this," I say, "is leaving you." Now would be the time to tell him. I don't have much time left. If I wait any longer, I may never tell him. Now that I have a chance, I still don't take it. Why am I so afraid? I have suppressed this feeling for nearly 9 years. I had to face death in order to admit it to myself. Even after I survived and face death again, I still can't come to say it. It's not that hard. I love you, Frank. Why am I afraid? Because, I don't want him to hate me. Spend the rest of my days without him because I told him and made him uncomfortable? I stay quite and leave it at that.
Mikey runs back in the room with Ray. "We may have found a facility," Ray says.
"It's not wroth it," I say. "I have days left. If Connors hadn't kept jabbing me with the needles, I would have been dead last week. But no, he's kept me alive. He knows that we don't have medicine. He's just giving me more time to be with you guys."
"He gave us more time also to find you a cure. He doesn't want you to die. He gave us just enough time. We found it, just outside of Zone 9," Mikey says.
"That's a day's trip of driving to get there, not considering breaks, sleep, and the liking intervention of Dracs. You'll make it back here with medicine when? Three days?" I ask. They don't say anything. "Guys, I don't have three days. If you found it a week ago, it would be one thing but I don't want to die, knowing you're going to come back to the base with what could have saved me and be too late. I don't want to die alone either."
"I don't want live, knowing I could've done something to save you but didn't," Frank says. The others agree.
Mikey comes over to my side and hugs me tight. "You have protected and always looked after me. It's time I do the same for you," he says.
"I love you, Mikey. When you protect the other Killjoys, you also make sure to protect yourself." Ray hugs me next. "Watch your back. I won't be there to toss you out of the way again."
Ray smiles."Luke is coming with us," he says. I look blankly at him. "Galaxy Globe he'll drive us there. But when we return from this mission, our next will be with you as our driver." He and Mikey step out of the room. Frank sits next to me crisscross on the bed.
"Are you going with them too?" I choke out. He nods. I grab his wrist. "Please! Don't leave me," I beg.
"Gee, I'm going to get you the medicine," he says.
I rest my head back, shut my eyes, and cry. "Fine, but Frankie. If you say goodbye today, I ask you to be true. When you leave, tell the doctor I want to go under." I've refuse to take pills. At this point, I'm in so much pain, the drugs never work, they just give me a smirk. I prefer to use my method of keeping myself clean. I never want to be sedated either. I don't want to miss what little time I have left. "If you come with the medicine on time, then I will live long enough to wake up. If you don't, then it will be like I died with you guys here. Put me to sleep."
Frank nods, fidgeting with his hands and takes a nervous breath. "Okay, I will." He gets up and walks out of the room in a hurry. That's it? That's how he leaves me? If he doesn't make it back, that's how it's going to end between us? That hurts more than my sickness. I feel my chest tense up stinging. He just left. Not evening saying goodbye? Frank? I want to call out for him but what good will it do? He made his decision. He's been so nervous since he stepped in this room today. He's been fidgeting around like something's on his mind. I told myself that it was because I'm a dead man but I doubt that his sudden departure has anything to do with it. Frank, why couldn't you at least say goodbye? After all the shit we've been though, this is how it ends. I never fucking told him either. I hate myself. He said it. He said it himself three weeks ago. Why couldn't I say? I'm facing death again and all I do is regret never telling him. I had so many chances to tell him. Three little words. That's all it was. I couldn't tell him. Frank, I love you. No, I couldn't say. And now he's gone. He left me with "Okay, I will." Maybe it's better off this way. He clearly doesn't care for me the way I do for him. Yeah, so much better off this way. My thoughts jumble together and everything hurts. Him leaving me hurts more than dying. My eyes start to water.