A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Twenty Three - Would You Carry Me To The End?

Frank woke up because something was digging into his neck.

Bewildered, he opened his eyes blearily and touched his throat, groaning when he felt the collar, which he'd apparently forgotten to take off, and obviously Gerard hadn't bothered to remind him. Fucker. Frank undid the clasp and tossed it over on the hotel nightstand before stretching luxuriously, yawning and sitting up after he was sufficiently awake. A dark figure was on the other side of the room, casually loading a gun and then tucking it into his belt.

Frank cleared his throat and Gerard turned around, rolling his eyes. "Took you long enough."

"How long was I sleeping? After the plane ride, I mean."

"Ever since we left the airport," Gerard muttered, rifling through their bag.

"Which was when?"

"Two in the morning."

"Oh, well," Frank said loftily, "falling asleep at two? That's crazy, not like that's actually a time people are normally in dreamland."

"Watch your tone," Gerard said, but his voice wasn't very angry. Frank just rolled his eyes again. "And don't just throw your collar over there, that thing was expensive, you know."

Frank chortled and tossed it over to the other, who caught it, still glowering at him. "I don't even think I wanna know where you get those."

Gerard sniffed. "Amazon, if you must know."

Frank stared at him and then busted out laughing. Gerard huffed and set the collar gently into the bag as though to further persuade Frank of its apparent value. "Amazon?" Frank giggled, bouncing a little on the bed. "What is this, Fifty Shades of Way?"

Gerard cringed. "Don't even speak to me of that awful book. And trust me," he added with a curl of his lips, "we'll do things they never even dreamed of."

"You're fifty shades of fucked up," Frank said in an exaggeratedly high-pitched voice. "Oh, fuck me Mr. Way, I'm such a blushing virgin and you're just so rich and famous I can't resist!"

Gerard actually cracked a smile at that and then shook his head. "Although I appreciate that, I'm not sure you're the blushing virgin type."

Frank chuckled and got up from the bed, promptly stripping and winking at Gerard, swaying his hips slightly. "You think?" He giggled some more and padded across the carpet to the bathroom. "'M taking a shower. Feel free to join me." He was only half-joking.

xoxoxo

To Frank's disappointment, though, Gerard didn't take him up on his offer. He got tired of waiting after about five minutes under the spray, and finished up as fast as he could, bundling up in a fluffy white towel and coming out into the motel room.

What he wasn't expecting was to see other people there, all of them with guns tucked surreptitiously into their belts. He recognized the one with orange hair, 'Agent' Hayley Williams, but the others were unfamiliar and maybe Frank was and never would be a virgin, but he did blush then, trying to get to the suitcase unnoticed. Damn Gerard.

Unluckily for him, Gerard caught his eye and smirked knowingly. "Hayley Williams, Ross, Smith, Lambert, Quinn, Dewees, this is Frank."

Frank glared at him and said out of gritted teeth, "Hi. Pleasure to meet you."

Hayley only looked at him coolly, and the other five guys both promptly glanced away. Frank huffed and squatted down to the suitcase, digging through it for his clothes while being careful to keep the towel around himself. When he straightened back up with his armful of clothes and turned his back on the others as he walked to the bathroom, Hayley spoke and he froze at her words.

"Nice scars. They look fairly new."

Frank stiffened, his muscles going taut and his hands clutching the towel tighter around his hips. He swiveled back around to face her, his brow furrowed. He couldn't read Gerard's expression, as the other was studiously avoiding his eye contact.

"They are new," Frank finally said, his voice low, before he slunk into the bathroom again, feeling vulnerable in his own skin, his scarred skin.

xoxoxo

Frank avoided the seven people in their motel room for the remainder of the day, making excuses to Gerard like he needed coffee or wanted a walk. Eventually, though, he just left, wandering around the surrounding streets. His chest barely hurt now, but every time he thought of Hayley's words, they made his face burn with...what, shame? Horror? Pleasure? He didn't know. He didn't know what Gerard was doing to him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Frank eventually came to a little bookstore, hidden and out of the way. The sign was a little crooked, but it didn't give a creepy feeling, rather, it was charming in a way. The faded gold letters spelled out: Cherries and Lilies: New and Used Books Since 1980

His interest was piqued. Cautiously, he opened the door and heard the tinkling of the chime above it. He hadn't been inside a bookstore in ages...in over four years, to be precise. He'd forgotten how much he missed them - the smell of old paper and new paper mixing together, the heady scent of the wood of the bookshelves and the overall silence of the place. It wasn't the eerie silent like the prison, either...it was a comfortable, warm silence full of words and stories and soft places to curl up and read in.

"Looking for something in particular?"

Frank was startled and looked up, peering past the bookshelves to the back of the cluttered little store. There was a young woman sitting at a desk in the very back, and he slowly made his way towards her, calling back, "I'm not sure yet."

The truth of the matter was that he didn't have any money with him, hadn't thought to bring any, and he doubted Gerard would give him any. He didn't want to know where Gerard's money came from anyway.

"Well, what's your name? I'll see if there's any books with a character sharing it."

Frank laughed. "Frank. My name is Frank." He was up to the desk now, and the woman behind it was very pretty, he had to admit, with pale skin and freckles and dark hair. He thought she looked like Snow White, and he told her this.

She smiled, an unexpectedly bright beam directed right at him. It made him feel warm inside. Nobody had smiled him like that in a long time. Gerard hardly ever smiled at him at all.

"Thank you," she said, standing up. "Although, I'm afraid my name is actually Jamia. Nice to meet you, Frank." She held out a small hand for him to shake and he did, hesitantly. "So, Frank, huh?" she asked, dark eyes mischievous. He nodded. "Ever read Frankenstein?"

Frank's heart kind of sunk at that. He hadn't, but he knew enough about it to know the ending was sad and the overall book was depressing. He didn't want a sad read, not this time. "No, but...I was hoping for something with a little bit...lighter subject matter."

Jamia chewed her lip. "Hmm. Do you like animals?"

Frank nodded, smiling crookedly. "Yeah. I love dogs."

She gave him that bright smile again and rushed over to a seemingly random bookshelf, searching the spines until she pulled out a faded green book. "The Call of the Wild by Jack London." She tossed him the thin paperback and he caught it. "You seem like you'd enjoy that."

Frank smiled right back at her and held the book like it was something precious, which to him, it was. He swallowed and turned it over in his hands. A wolf howled back at him from the cover and he looked up. "Could I...could I just read it here? My...friend is busy and wanted me to stay out for awhile."

Jamia nodded. "Of course. Feel free to ask me if you need any more recommendations."

"I will," Frank promised, and as he sat down at the window bench, she brushed past him in a friendly way which made him wish for something he couldn't have.

xoxoxo

It was dark when Frank reached a stopping point in his fourth book of the day, Tales by Edgar Allen Poe. His request for 'lighter subject matter' hadn't worked out so well, and he'd ended up with this book, which probably wouldn't improve his nightmares, but was amazingly written nonetheless.

He'd just finished The Tell-Tale Heart, which was a story he thought Gerard might learn a lesson or two from, when Jamia said quietly, "It's nine p.m...I'm sorry, I probably should've told you the time earlier, but you looked so peaceful and I didn't want to disturb you. Sorry."

Frank picked up the book with a sigh, but it was a content noise as he handed the book back to her. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't think to bring any money but...I'll come back if I can, I promise."

Jamia smiled. She loved to smile, he knew this from the light lines around her mouth. "No, I don't mind that you didn't buy. I don't run a bookstore for the money," she explained, "I run it because sometimes people just need a story in their lives, to escape from the normal. You know?"

"Or the abnormal," Frank added.

She blinked. "Or that, I suppose."

She had no idea, he thought sadly. "I'm glad I stopped by," he said, shifting his feet around awkwardly. "It was nice to have someone like you around."

Jamia frowned, looking worried. "Someone like me?"

Frank looked down. "Somebody who cares."

"Oh, dear," Jamia whispered, and she was smiling again, but it was small and sad. "They do care. I know they do." Frank was a bit ashamed that it was that obvious, that he felt neglected by his boyfriend (or girlfriend...she didn't know).

Frank just shook his head. "If you knew him, you wouldn't say that."

Jamia leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek, in a friendly sort of way which made him flush. "If I knew him, I'm all the more certain that I would. Who wouldn't care about you?"

And with that, she sent Frank out into the night, back to the Blue Moon Inn on 30th Street.

xoxoxo

When Frank got back to the hotel room, he was surprised when Gerard noticed him first and strode over to him as soon as he stepped into the door, narrowing his eyes down at him. "Where the fuck were you, Frank?"

"I took a walk," he muttered. "I know when I'm not wanted."

The other six behind him were all dressed in black, and he could've been mistaken, but it looked like they had bulletproof vests. And they were equipped with their weapons, of course. Gerard was quite possibly the scariest looking of all, with his angry gold eyes trained directly on Frank, silver of his handgun barely visible, peeking out of his holster. He had a bulletproof vest on, and under that a skintight black long sleeved shirt complete with fingerless padded black gloves and black skinny jeans. He looked fucking hot, as usual, but he also looked a little stressed out.

"Don't fucking leave again," Gerard warned him. "It's not safe out there."

Frank narrowed his eyes. "Hypocrite much? It looks to me like we're about to go on a recon mission to save your little brother. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"You are wrong," Gerard said, voice cold. "You're not coming."

Frank stared at him. "Excuse me? Uh, you wanna try that again? Of fucking course I'm coming."

"No, it's-"

"What? It's too dangerous?! Don't treat me like I'm fucking made of glass, Gerard!" Frank shouted, fists clenched.

Gerard looked like he'd been slapped in the face and Frank remembered, too late, when he'd said that before. Gerard's face just closed off and he said, "Fine, Frank. Hayley, do you have any extra jackets for him?"

Hayley wordlessly handed over a black jacket, and Frank took it, strapping it on. It was too big, and it felt very heavy, but it was something. His jeans were black anyway, so he was fine there. And now he needed a weapon. Gerard was digging through a bag that presumably Hayley had brought, and Frank said, "I want a knife."

Gerard didn't look at him. "No."

"Yes."

"I said no." Gerard handed him a gun and Frank took it unenthusiastically, tucking it into his holster, built into the jacket. Great, now Gerard was pissed, well, even more pissed, because Frank had accidentally brought up the whole knife incident. Which was totally unfair because that wasn't even Frank's fault in the first place. So maybe he'd initiated it, but Gerard was the sadistic one who punished him for it and almost killed him in the process. He shouldn't be mad at Frank because of it.

Half an hour later, they were all suited up and ready, hiding all evidence of weapons and gear in the room, stashed in clever places. As they left the room and started down to the back door of the motel, so they wouldn't be seen, Frank heard Hayley ask Gerard in a low voice, "Does the boss know he's coming?"

Gerard's grim answer made Frank shiver a little despite himself.

"He will soon enough."

xoxoxo

They showed up at 5023 West Magnolia Drive in two cars - one being Gerard's Mercedes and the other Hayley's black Hummer. She parked the Hummer in some tall trees in the empty lot diagonal to their target, and Gerard insisted on parking around the corner from the house, where the car wouldn't be thought to be theirs.

The eight of them met up in the trees in the empty lot, dark and silent. Frank's nerves were finally fully seeing the situation for what it was - a crime, something which could easily send him back to prison again if he was caught. That made his breath catch and his heart beat faster - he never wanted to go back there. And yet, the same fate might await the other seven, who all appeared calm and unruffled like they did this every day. Maybe they did.

Gerard was whispering instructions to them. "Hayley, you and I will take out the front door guards and any who might be inside. Ross and Smith, you two go to the right and Lambert follow behind and watch their backs, Quinn and Dewees, you two will be alright on the left side. Quinn, watch his back, and Dewees, kill 'em all."

"What about me?" Frank asked, irritated that he was being left out of this.

Gerard paused. "Just follow me and Hayley. Stay close, though."

Frank was boiling with rage at this useless job, but stayed silent for the sake of their secrecy.

"Now, there's another woman who said she'd be joining us." Everyone looked up at this. "Her name is Alicia, and she's Mikey's girlfriend."

"Can she be trusted?" Quinn asked at once.

The corner of Gerard's mouth lifted. "I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt but if it turns out she's double crossed us, then...don't hesitate to shoot her and everyone who came with her."

They all nodded, and thus the rescue of Michael Way began.

xoxoxo

Nobody approached them as they cautiously crossed the street, all at once instead of one by one, because, as Gerard said, just better to get it over with. Frank felt safer as soon as they were among the little citrus trees surrounding the house, for they did provide some cover.

Gerard's eyes seemed to gleam in the dark, like cat eyes, and he made the silent signal for the two teams on the sides of the house to depart. Frank saw something move in the trees behind Gerard and tugged him down, making the other glare and try to break free, until a hand landed on his shoulder and he spun around, whipping his gun out and pressing it against the newcomer's throat.

She stared at him with wide blue eyes and he warily released her. "Alicia," was all he said, and she just nodded. She was pretty, very Goth looking, with braided black and blue hair and smeared ebony eyeliner, her clothes also pure black. She caught Frank's eye and gave him a curious smile, he didn't return it. He wasn't really in the mood for smiles, even if they'd come from Jamia herself.

The four of them approached the house, and Gerard, Frank noticed, didn't give Alicia a weapon. He didn't trust her, still. He would rather she get shot than believe that she was on their team.

Gerard had serious issues, but then again...Frank supposed that if it was between your brother's girlfriend getting shot and you getting shot, you'd choose the former. He would, anyway.

He was jerked out of his thoughts as they lingered near the end of the trees, shadows on the lawn, and Gerard raised his gun and aimed at one of them. Frank was confused when a gunshot didn't echo through the night, just a click and then a whoosh as something embedded itself in the first guard's neck. Their eyes went wide and they toppled over, lifeless. The other guard opened their mouth to shout, but it was too late - Hayley had already aimed and fired, and another dart snuffed out the second one.

Alicia looked in shock, and Frank just wondered what was in those guns, since they so obviously weren't bullets. But his question would have to wait, because the four of them had begun to make their way to the door, and then Gerard just broke into a run, followed by Hayley, and Frank and Alicia had no choice but to dash after them, up to the silent door. It was locked, but Gerard took out something small and silver and slipped it into the keyhole, sliding it around for just a few seconds before something clicked quietly. This time when Gerard tried the knob, it swung open.

Gerard may have been a brilliant assassin, but he must have lost his touch a little while in prison, because one thing he either forgot or completely disregarded was the alarm system.

Which was on, and promptly went off as soon as the intruders entered the house.

"Dammit," Gerard hissed. He spun and said to Hayley, "Try to deactivate it. I'm going upstairs. If that thing doesn't shut off in a minute, the cops are coming. Shit. I didn't even...Frank, come with me, and Alicia, stay there."

He grabbed Frank's arm and dragged him away from the blaring alarm and towards the staircase. "Mikey!" Gerard shouted, no longer taking pains to be quiet. "Mikey! Come on! Get down here, now!"

He wasn't responding, though, so Gerard cursed again and sprinted up the stairs, Frank panting close behind. Gerard proceeded to fling open all the doors he could find, with Frank hovering desperately behind him, gun clutched in his hands as he waited for any possible enemies to approach.

Then Gerard kicked open the last door at the very end of the hall, and lo and behold, there was Mikey, pale as a sheet, looking as though he'd just seen a ghost. He'd tried to put a chair up against the door, but it was in splinters now with the force of Gerard's blow.

"Gerard?" Mikey asked in a very small voice, eyes wide. "You're not...you're not dead?"

"Not yet, come on!" Gerard yelled, gesturing for him to come. Mikey did, stumbling forward, and Frank could tell they were brothers easily, from their noses, eyes, mouths, eyebrows...and yet where Gerard was all smoothly flowing planes, Mikey was sharp angles and stronger lines. It was odd to see them side by side - and then Frank saw the gunman at the top of the stairs, aiming for Gerard's head.

Frank didn't even think, just aimed and shot, feeling the kickback and watching with sick fascination as the red dart pierced his chest and he fell the long way down the stairs. Gerard caught Frank's eyes for a brief moment, and Frank couldn't have been sure but he thought that maybe, just maybe, he was trying to say thank you.

"Out out out!" Gerard urged, and Mikey was finally with the program, the three of them hurrying down the stairs, only to find that the entire bottom floor of the house had turned into a battle of a sort. Quinn was finishing off a blonde cop, and Hayley was taking on two, Alicia huddled behind her. There were about ten other ones, all armed, and gunshots rang out everywhere. This house had been under more surveillance than they'd expected.

Mikey was staring at the scene, and slipped on a step in his horror and shock, prompting Gerard to steady him, turning his attention away from the fray for a second. In that second, though, a cop fired - Frank didn't know who and he didn't care - and the bullet went too fast for anyone to do anything about it. Gerard staggered and sucked in a breath as the shell - a real bullet shell, not one of the poison darts - sliced through the flesh his arm. It didn't go very deep, but Frank knew it had very nearly hit something important from the gush of blood which followed after.

Mikey made a frightened sound and tried to talk to Gerard, but Frank pushed them both and shoved Mikey in between them, shooting everyone in a police uniform. The alarm was off, Hayley having successfully disabled the system, but Gerard's mistake of forgetting the whole fact that the house probably had an alarm had ensured that something like this was basically inevitable.

Gerard cursed in pain again, and Frank would've bet for money that he'd been grazed by a bullet. He probably was having a hard time shooting, but that was alright - there were only five cops left, now, and Frank took out two of them.

Hayley hit the blonde, Ross hit the brunette, and Smith hit the redhead.

Frank couldn't tell which one was the redhead one now, though, because all their hair was red. The house was a bloodbath, and Frank had to lower the gun and breathe for a few moments, trying to calm down. But there was so much red, at the edges of his vision, on the cops' bodies, on the bodies of the fallen ones on their team, and, as he turned, on Gerard's arm and leg, the fabric of his jeans torn open at the calf where a low shot had sliced through and grazed his skin, destroying the veins and making them spill scarlet.

"We need to go," Hayley said quickly, opening the door for the others. She didn't spare so much as a glance for their fallen comrades - Quinn and Lambert, who lay in sticky crimson puddles, eyes glazed over and guns in their hands. Gerard didn't, either, and the survivors all limped out, Gerard especially. Mikey was torn between helping his brother and meeting his girlfriend again for the first time in, what, two months? Frank couldn't blame him, but he was helping Gerard.

He knew the bastard would protest to being carried, even if Frank was more dragging him than carrying. And protest Gerard did, until Frank told him to shut the fuck up or keep talking and bleed out because Frank would leave him there to die. Neither of them really believed that, but Gerard wasn't going to be taking any chances.

Alicia's car was parked near the Mercedes, and Mikey, after some hesitation, climbed into her car, hugging Gerard awkwardly and whispering to call him, please, and meet up somewhere. Gerard just grunted in response, and Frank dumped him in the passenger seat, where he was probably going to bleed all over the leather.

Frank ignored him at first and asked, "Where're the goddamn keys?" snatching them up when Gerard handed them over, the metal somewhat bloody. Frank rolled his eyes and even though his fingers were shaking, stuck them in and turned, the engine purring to life. They had to get out of there as soon as possible.

He was about to hit the gas when Gerard rasped out, "Look," and he did, staring out the window at the masterpiece Hayley had created. 5023 West Magnolia Drive was no more, turned into an inferno the color of the female assassin's fiery hair. Smart, Frank thought, because that way, there was no evidence. But now the police and firefighters would definitely be here soon, so now would be an excellent time to go.

xoxoxo

Halfway to the motel, when Frank was positive they weren't being chased by cop cars, he pulled over and took off his jacket, taking off Gerard's vest as well, with some difficulty. The other didn't push him away, just sort of lay there, stunned. Gerard had, to his credit, attempted not to bleed on the seats, and most of it was on his vest and shirt. Frank got the vest off, and then got Gerard shirt off, too, to inspect the damage to his arm. He winced. There was a bullet in there, all right. The skin was puffy and Frank could see the dark bullet inside.

"Fuck," Gerard growled when he poked it. "Don't fucking do that, fuck you."

"Maybe later," Frank said, ripping part of the shirt's sleeve off. Gerard looked appalled, but Frank ignored him and tied the fabric where it would contain the blood, as a tourniquet. The gunshot wasn't bad, so he didn't tie it too tight, and they could treat it at the motel, but for now this would stop the blood loss a great deal. He did the same for Gerard's leg, pulling up the jeans.

It was hard to sneak him back into the hotel, but Frank managed it by throwing the jacket over Gerard's shoulders to hide the arm wound, and praying they didn't think to look at his legs. They took the elevator, and Gerard leaned heavily against him, not even trying to be tough anymore, which was refreshing. Gunshot wounds could do that to people.

"On the bed," Frank ordered, going to the mini-fridge and poking around in the freezer. He threw some ice cubes at Gerard, who hurriedly pressed them to the surrounding area and gasped at the instant numbness. Frank thanked the lord when he saw the vodka in the fridge, which they'd have to pay for later, but whatever, Gerard would forgive him, desperate times. He grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom and wet it thoroughly. Frank approached Gerard and took the tourniquets off as fast as he could, not wanting Gerard to end up an amputee needlessly.

"You're not gonna like this," Frank warned, and then he poured some vodka onto the cloth and swabbed at the wound. The bullet hadn't gone in far at all, and it took some digging with the sterilized cloth as well as a shout and a chorus of pained curses from Gerard, but Frank was eventually rewarded with a bloody bullet in the now not at all sterile washcloth. He tossed them both into the trash, got a new washcloth, and poured more vodka on it, cleaning a bit more gently now, but still hard enough to make Gerard wince and cringe every now and then.

"Are you quite done?" he said through gritted teeth after a long while.

"For now. You need some meds, I'm going to the pharmacy, stay here."

"They're not open-"

"Twenty four seven, Gerard. Stay."

"I'm staying, Jesus!"

Frank grabbed some wads of cash from the suitcase after Gerard directed him to where it was kept, and with that left the man who was not so strong anymore on the bed.

He left him feeling vulnerable in more ways than one.