Surrender The Night (Frerard)

He looked like he was sleeping, Linda thought when she first walked into her son's designated hospital room, except he was covered in blood and dirt. Both were streaked down his face and matted into his hair; there was a wire attached to a machine sticking out of his arm and a bandage wrapped tight around his chest. She wondered how long it would have taken him to die, in this state, if he had never been found and taken to hospital. Then she shook her head to get rid of the thought; she didn't want to know.

She let out a shaky sob and covered her hand with her mouth, rushing to the bed to take Frank's hand gently. She didn't want to hurt him or dislocate any wires that might be saving his life, but she had to touch him somehow, just to make sure he was real and here and alive.

"Is he going to be okay?" She asked, turning her attention to the doctor that had accompanied her here. She wanted confirmation, and her heart sank in her chest when she saw the woman was reluctant to answer. That couldn't be good.

"He'll live - he's in a stable condition - but… it appears he was hit very hard on the back of the head. There may have been damage to the skull or the spinal cord resulting in possible temporary or permanent paralysis. As I said, we won't know anything for sure until we take X-Rays of his neck and we will need him to be conscious for that."

Linda looked away because she couldn't stand to see the look of pity the doctor was giving her, but it was just as difficult to look at her son lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Paralysed? What did that even mean? That he wouldn't be able to walk, or just turn his head? That he might never be able to move again, or that he might get the ability back after a while? How were they expected to live with that?— Frank was seventeen! He needed to finish high school and then go to university and then get a job, not get paralysed!

"Mrs Iero?" A new voice asked tentatively, and when Linda looked up she saw a man in police uniform standing in the doorway awkwardly. It was clear he was trying to be respectful but follow orders at the same time, unsure whether to give her time to process all that was happening or demand she follow him immediately.

"Could you come with me, please? We need to ask you some questions about a…" he trailed off as he snuck a glance at his notebook. "Mr Daniel Evans."

Frank's hand twitched and she gasped. Her face paled as she replied.

"What has Daniel got to do with this?" At first she was confused, and then, after looking from Frank to the doctor to the police officer, she repeated it, this time with an underlying tone of aggression. She had figured it out, by then, and when she thought about it, it all made sense. Everything fit into place: black BMW, baseball bat, crazed kidnapper. Daniel. "What has Daniel got to do with this?"

"Mrs Iero," the police officer repeated again, this time a little more insistent. "Could you please come with us? We'll need you to identify Mr Daniel Evans."

The doctor turned around under the pretence of fixing the dosage on the machine next to Frank's bed, but it was obvious that wasn't what she was really doing. Linda couldn't tell whether the woman was eavesdropping or giving her some pretence of privacy, dno really matter to her.

"What do you mean, identify?" Linda scowled, her words clipped and icy. That motherfucker was going to pay for what he did to Frank— he was going to spend the rest of his worthless fucking life in jail. The officer looked from the doctor and back to Linda questioningly, as though to say, "she doesn't know?" before his mouth settled into a thin line and he fiddled with his belt uncomfortably.

"Mrs Iero," he said for the third time. "We need you to identify Evans' body."
___

Linda was stuck answering questions about Daniel for the police for three hours. That was almost longer than she had spent answering questions about Frank's disappearance and it irked her that they seemed to be spending more time on that pathetic asshole than they did her son. Even though she knew, really, it was a good thing that they were so determined to close this case, she still felt that Daniel was getting off easy. Death was too light a punishment for someone so evil, for someone who had done such evil things to good people.

Whilst the police hadn't explicitly told her how Daniel had died, it had been clear enough to see when she was asked to identify his body. One of the man's hands had been hanging off the side of the morgue table like something straight out of a horror movie, and the slit wrist had been a dead giveaway.

Who was Daniel to her? What relation was he to Frank? What cause did he had to attack and kidnap her son? Why had she never gone to the police about Daniel's abusive behaviour before, especially when she knew it was a danger to Frank? Somehow, the officer asking her all of the questions made it feel like all of this was her fault, and she didn't need that. She already felt guilty enough.

Why hadn't she told the police about Daniel's abusive behaviour? She knew it was a risk to Frank, she let the man hit her son for Christ's sake, and yet she kept quiet and let him get away with it because of some ridiculous affection she still felt towards him. She could have prevented this if she had just stood up for herself and for her family in the first instance, before it got out of hand.

She made her way back to Frank's room slowly, dragging her hand along the hospital wall childishly. She considered calling her mother, and then decided against the idea. She hadn't talked to her mother in over three years; she doubted the woman would appreciate being called up after all this time only to be asked to make a four hour trip. Then she considered calling Frank.

She hadn't talked to her husband in a long time— they had separated when Frank was so young and, save for a few times when he came to pick their son up to take him out for the day, she hadn't seen him since. That tradition had stopped a long time ago, and she doubted even Frank had heard from his father in over a year. Even so, she thought, as his father he deserved to know about this.

It was a relief when she discovered that his phone number remained the same, and the phone rung all of four times before there was a click on the other end and a familiar voice saying, "hello? Linda?"

Linda suddenly found that she had no idea what to say. What should one say to their estranged husband who they hadn't spoken to in many years, to inform them that their son was unconscious in the hospital?

"Linda, what is it?" Frank said in a more patient tone than she remembered him ever using when they were still together. "What's the matter? Is everything okay?"

Tears pricked at her eyes and she couldn't, just couldn't, talk to him anymore. She couldn't stand the thought of him being understanding and sympathetic now, when it wasn't too late to make any difference.

"I'm in the Beaver Medical Centre in Pennsylvania. Get here as soon as you can; Frank's in trouble." She choked out and promptly hung up. She needed to get back to her son's room.

Ignoring the ringing of her phone in her pocket, she picked up the pace and wasn't met with a sight she hadn't expected: Frank lying in bed with his eyes open.

***

Gerard made it through another three days at work before he was asked to leave. Word had gotten out about Frank's disappearance and subsequent reappearance, and the head master of the school had been informed that Frank had been at Gerard's house the night of the incident, and he supposed that was classed as 'inappropriate relations with a student'. Even though the police seemed to accept what Gerard had said about them only being friends but that was still deemed wrong.

Before he had been fired - not fired, asked to leave - he had heard Frank's friends - Brendon and that Ray kid that he always hung out with - talking about how he was in hospital and they had gone to see him yesterday. He wanted to go too, wanted to see Frank, but he was afraid that that would make everyone more suspicious of him. Now he was no longer working for the school though, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

He set off early so he would get to Pennsylvania by around ten or eleven and was soon pulling up in the hospital parking lot with his palms sweating and his heart beating erratically. He was horribly nervous; he had no idea how Frank would react to seeing him, how his mother would react to seeing him, and he even considered bringing his tatty messenger back that he took to work to protect himself in case Linda tried to attack him.

After asking at the desk and signing a visitor's form, Gerard hurried to Frank's room and stood outside the door for the longest time, debating with himself. He desperately wanted to see Frank, but if Frank didn't want to see him then his visit could negatively effect Frank's mental health. Finally, his desperation won out over his anxiety and he pushed the door open.

Frank looked beautiful, he thought when he first saw him, just like he always did. Even with his hair greasy and his face pale and bruises covering his exposed skin, he was gorgeous. He was also staring at Gerard with wide eyes like the man had walked in completely naked.

"Hey," Gerard said softly, staying in the doorway. He was too scared to walk any closer; he was also unbelievably grateful that Frank was alone when he got there. If Linda had been there, he didn't know what he would have said or done."How're you feeling?"

"What are you doing here?" Was Frank's only reply and yeah, he was definitely shocked. He couldn't hide anything, so all his emotions were displayed on his face for Gerard to see. First he was shocked, then confused, then excited, then angry, then neural. Gerard feared the last one most of all.

"I came to see you." The older man replied, even though that much was obvious. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Well I'm fine." Frank said, his words clipped and too polite. It reminded Gerard of how you might act after seeing an ex soon after the relationship was over. He didn't like it. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

Gerard opened his mouth to reply before realising it wasn't really a question: it was Frank telling him to leave. He stepped closer and rested a hand on top of Frank's, not sure whether or not he should be relieved when Frank didn't pull away. He suspected that was more to do with the wire sticking out of his arm that wasn't supposed to be moved to vigorously than Frank's personal feelings.

"Seriosuly Mr Way." Frank gritted his teeth and purposefully avoided Gerard's gaze. "You should go—"

"Jesus Frank." Gerard gasped, unable to hold anything back anymore. "I'm so fucking glad you're okay… I didn't— I didn't know what to say when the police asked; I didn't see you get hit and I was so scared. Then I heard you got found and were okay and I was so relieved, and I don't work at the school anymore and shit, Frank, I'm so glad your okay!"

Frank was looking at him with wide eyes again and if Gerard wasn't mistaken he could have sworn he saw the boy's eyes welling up. He was about to say something else, maybe step closer and wrap an arm around Frank's shoulder if the positioning wasn't too awkward, when the door opened and Frank's mother walked in. She looked surprised to see him there.

"Mr Way." She said. "Hello."

"Uh, hi." Gerard responded nervously. He kept hoping Frank would say something, tell him to stay or his mother to leave, but he didn't. He just kept silent until Gerard was forced to incline his head and turn to the woman.

"I should go." He told her, repeating Frank's words. Then, to Frank, he said, "I'm glad you're okay."

When he was sat in his car again, he wrapped his arms around himself and rested his head against the wheel. That was how it was going to be from now on, he knew. Frank wouldn't act hostile towards Gerard, but it wouldn't go back to the way things were before either; everything had changed, and Frank was simply going to act like Gerard was nothing more than his old teacher. He was going to pretend their relationship had never happened— the thought made Gerard's heart constrict but there was nothing he could do about it now. He had fucked up, and now he was suffering the consequences.

***

Linda could guess what Frank's relationship with Mr Way was after seeing how they interacted with each other in the hospital room - the way Gerard had angled his body towards Frank and spoken to him so softly before he left told her enough - but she's was oddly calm about it. Frank, however, was not.

As soon as Mr Way left, Frank had started crying and had tried to turn onto his side in the bed which resulted in him ripping the wire out of his arm. After a nurse had had to come and put it back in again, Frank had turned his head to look at his mother. His eyes had been red and puffy and there were dried tear tracks on his face.

"Why did you never divorce dad, after you split up?" He asked, his voice choked up.

Linda struggled to answer. She didn't think, 'it wasn't worth the paperwork' was the kind of answer Frank was looking for right now. Instead, she smiled and took her son's hand.

"He never brought it up, so I never brought it up. I guessed I thought maybe it would just be a temporary thing and that we would work it out eventually, but we never did. And then it became harder and harder to talk to him, and it was too painful to bring up divorcing each other."

Frank processed this and then nodded, seemingly satisfied by her answer. She didn't know how that related to his relationship with Mr Way, but she wasn't going to ask. She was just going to be his shoulder to cry on.

Notes

So I'm thinking there will only be 2-3 more chapters of this and then I'll focus on writing my Gabilliam fic! Yay! :D

(Also I've become strangely obsessed with Gabilliam so if any of you guys know any good (happy) Gabe/William fanfics then please tell me!!)