Grand Naivety, Broken

Scotland was wet. Frank’s raincoat did nothing to protect him from the cold rain as the trio sloshed to the castle-gone-hotel they would be staying in. Ryan seemed completely unperturbed by the water, his hair sticking to his face and his clothes drenched. Gerard had Frank wrapped tightly under his overcoat, trying to protect his childe from the brunt of the storm. Frank was grateful, but the overcoat really did nothing to save him.

The fact that they could no longer contract human diseases was reassuring in the long run, but Frank didn’t find it very reassuring when he was soaked to the bone and leaching heat from Gerard. His teeth still chattered and Gerard still had to carry him some distances when his legs gave out.

When they burst through the large castle doors, a puddle collecting under them, Gerard rushed up to the reception desk to retrieve their key, handing Frank over to a sopping Ryan. Frank struggled onto his numb legs and stood on his own while he waited for his sire. Key in hand, Gerard herded the two up the stairs and into their third story room. Immediately, he started tugging off Frank’s clothes, one article at a time, and wrapped the youngest in towels. Ryan watched them interact with a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk, but kept quiet and disrobed quickly, leaving them out for Gerard to hang to dry. He slipped into bed and continued watching Gerard tuck Frank into bed like a child and dry his hair with a towel while paying no heed to his own dripping form.

Gerard stopped after a moment, looking to Ryan and rushing over to dry his hair, leaving Frank somewhat dazed from the rubbing. Ryan batted the man’s hands away, screwing up his face and rolling away from him. Gerard took the hint and left for the bathroom, already peeling away his wet layers as he went. Clearly, there was no modesty left in the 540 year old legend-turned-reality.

After several minutes of silence, Ryan turned to Frank. “What’s up with him?”

Frank rolled onto his side and wriggled his arms out of his towel-cocoon. “He has some weird maternal instincts that he projects on anyone he views weaker than himself.”

“You sure that’s it?” Ryan asked with a smirk.

“There is nothing here but what you juxtapose upon us,” stated Gerard with reserved finality as he reentered the room. He dropped himself onto the small couch and pulled off his soggy shoes. Frank patted the bed next to him, but Gerard shook his head and replied with, “I need to stay awake a bit longer,” before reclining on the sofa and motioning for the two to go to sleep.

Ryan felt ashamed that Gerard had caught him insinuating things about his relationship with Frank, even a bit guilty. He used to pride himself in his stealth, but it seemed he was no match to the ancient vampire.

…

“So, where is this guy?” Ryan asked as the trio traipsed down the street of downtown Thurso. The two youngest were quite disappointed that they saw no men in kilts and no leprechauns (wait, are those Irish?), but they were appeased by the Nessie-themed tourist attractions scattered across mainstreet. Although, there was a distinct lack of rainbows.

“The Legalised Police Cells at Thurso Police Department,” he replied nonchalantly, glancing around and smiling in greeting at passing locals. “He’s awaiting trial for murder.”

Frank and Ryan gasped melodramatically.

Gerard snorted. “It’s all a big misunderstanding. They don’t know what to do with Stump, since they realize what he is. They can’t keep him in a conventional prison, even though I’ve met Stump and he’s a definite pacifist.”

“Shouldn’t Stump be in Ireland anyway?” said Ryan with a frown.

Gerard nodded. “He was planning on traveling to Iceland and wanted the trip to be as quick as possible, but he was in the wrong town at the wrong time and got framed for murder. And considering the majority of this town knows what he is, even if it’s quite obvious it wasn’t him, it’s easy to pin it to a known harbinger of death.”

The trio fell into silence, listening the locals spew gibberish to each other walking calmly to the city police department.

“Okay,” Gerard started, “Ryan, stay out here and think loudly if you have any trouble. Frank, come.” Frank trotted along behind him to the back of the station, which happened to be a parking lot. “Alright,” Gerard rounded on Frank, “remember what I taught you?” Frank nodded. “Then let’s go.”

With the fluidity of a phantom, Gerard melted through the wall, disappearing behind the brick. Frank, after a moment’s hesitation and a hard swallow, followed, shivering at the sensation of simply flitting through solid brickstone. His Master smiled slightly when they met on the other side before melding in with the shadows and moving himself towards what Frank assumed to be Stump’s holding cell.

Frank followed slowly, concentrating on remaining as one with the darkness. He sensed Gerard in a center cell and slipped through the bars with the shadows cast by the stormy skies outside the windows. He spotted the moving mass of blackness and drifted closer, floating next to it and looking at the angry redhead pout at the concrete wall.

With a soundless step, Gerard appeared from the shadows, his expression once again closed and posture straight. He cleared his throat after Frank’s visibility returned, which made Stump’s head jerk up.

“Gerard Way?!” he whispered, baffled. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

“You don’t seem very grateful for the rescue, Patrick,” said Gerard. He looked thoroughly amused. “I did not come all this way to be questioned.”

Patrick sighed and hung his head. “Sorry, I’ve just been stuck in here for two days and it’s starting to take a tole on my sanity.”

Frank’s sire didn’t look at all sympathetic when he said, “I’m sorry to hear that. Now, do you want to leave?”

Patrick nodded rapidly.

There was a quiet click sounded throughout the cell and a sliver of shadow retracted into Gerard’s form. The barred door swung open with a squeak and Patrick immediately went running out, drawing a frustrated groan from Gerard and a sigh from Frank. The yells and protests of the other prisoners drowned out their sounds of irritation.

Police officers and guards were shouting commands and leaping from desks when Frank and Gerard arrived on the scene. Patrick was struggling against two men -- one incredibly burly and the other pourty -- and biting back his trademark screech. With another irate groan, Gerard grabbed both officers by the collar and hefted them away from Patrick, setting them gently on the floor and taking their guns. He looked the men in the eyes and smashed their firearms in his hands, dropping them and turning to lead Frank and Patrick out the door.

The bullets that were fired into Gerard’s retreating back went seemingly unnoticed.

After retrieving Ryan, whom was confused and skittish by the time they exited the station, the four men returned to their hotel, shoving Patrick onto the couch (despite his protests). Gerard slipped into bed with Frank, curling around the younger and loosening his muscles. He murmured tired Icelandic words into Frank’s ear, which lulled the man to sleep, the thrum of his heart white noise to the lethargic slur of his words.

…

Frank woke up merely an hour later to smoke filling the room. He blinked rapidly for a moment before jolting up and shaking his sleeping sire awake, babbling incoherently and tugging at his arm sharply. Gerard woke up with immediate concern in his eyes. The concern lasted as long as it took him to realize there was smoke floating near the ceiling, as it was then replaced by anger.

He picked Frank up under one arm and shook the two other cryptids awake. Frank squealed in surprised and looped his arms around Gerard’s waist, tucking his legs as close to his body as Gerard’s arm would allow. Ryan looked uncomfortable when he woke up -- his face screamed “pain” -- and Patrick looked both annoyed to be awake and surprised by the fire he noticed licking at the opposite end of the couch.

Without a second glance to their burnt possessions, Gerard lept from the third story window, landing seamlessly on his feet and setting Frank gently on the ground at least ten yards away from the burning castle-gone-hotel. He quickly phased back into the scorching room and jumped back onto the ground with a squirming Patrick over his shoulder and a pliable Ryan under his arm. He dropped Patrick and Ryan next to Frank before storming over to the gathering crowd in front of the crumbling building.

Over the next few minutes, Gerard screamed and snarled at the smirking perpetrator and frowning vacated hotel guests. His speech (filled with profanity and not-so-empty threats and spoken in fluid Gaelic) could be summed up as “I will feed you your own intestines if you dare to harm my childe again” and “you can’t stop us all, you crazy bastards” while still managing to look quite profound and completely sane.

After thoroughly instilling the fear of a creature as old as the castle they had just destroyed into the human’s quivering forms, Gerard calmed considerably and stalked back to the trio of observers and said, “Come, we’re going back to the boat for the night.”

Frank walked beside Gerard with big eyes and an admiring smile, thinking as loudly as he could, “You’re my hero,” over and over, earning a small grin and an arm around his shoulders.

Notes

Free advertising to anyone who can see the pattern here.
Oh yeah, tell me when I have a typo; I need to know.
Comment and subscribe and shit.
-Stitches