(no subject)
Title: So Long and Goodnight
Fandom/Pairing: MCR gen
Wordcount: 1605
Warnings: Slavery, pre-story minor character death
Summary: Gerard has already lost Elena, he's not sure he can cope with losing Mikey too.
Written for the 'grief' square for hc_bingohc_bigno
“I’m sorry I got us caught.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It kind of is.”
“It’s not your fault, Gerard.”
Gerard sits in the corner of the cell and lets the guilt well up inside him. He knows it’s his fault. When Elena got sick, he’d been the one who made her soup, (attempted from scratch at first, but after that one disastrous effort, he’d just heated it from a can), and kept clean sheets on the bed. (He’d dyed the white sheets pink, but Elena had just smiled and said she liked him better that way. She’d been great like that.)
Mikey had been the one who worried about things. Like the hospital bills, because Elena was retired, and he and Gerard didn’t work. Couldn’t work. Mikey had been the one who organized selling the television, and Elena’s record collection, and then some of her earrings, to keep ahead of the bills.
When the doctors had shaken their heads, looked at their feet and said there was nothing more to be done, Gerard had cried in his room for half a day. Then he’d gone out, bought flowers and streamers and a new sketchbook, and went about decorating Elena’s room, filling it up with all the things she’d loved but couldn’t go out and see anymore. Every day he’d tried to make something new for her, so that she wasn’t trapped in a dull unchanging room waiting to die. Mikey had found other things to worry about then.
Mikey had started calling people, people he knew, contacts he had. There weren’t that many, but a few of them knew other people, and some of those people knew other people who might be able to help. Help Mikey and Gerard, because they were going to need it.
It had kind of pissed Gerard off. Elena was dying. It was all he could think about. All he wanted to do was take care of her and make sure she was okay. Elena had told him to have a bit of concern for himself. She had known what they were up against a lot better than Gerard had. Gerard had thought Mikey was being selfish, that he didn’t care. They’d had arguments about it. They’d had an argument about it that last day, the day before Elena had died.
When Elena had died, Gerard had planned the funeral. They couldn’t afford to make it as nice as he wanted. With Elena gone, they had no money. There was still the house, and the furniture, and Elena’s car that she hadn’t driven in three years, but those things didn’t belong to Gerard and Mikey. Voids weren’t allowed to own anything.
Elena had had insurance, but it wasn’t enough to plan a flashy funeral. She wouldn’t have wanted one anyway. Gerard organised nice flowers and a church for the service to be held, planned out readings and hymns with the priest. It was going to be nice. It would have been nice.
Mikey had wanted to run right then, the same day Gerard found Elena in her room not breathing. They’d had a really big argument that time. Gerard had thought they’d be able to go to the funeral, say goodbye. He’d thought they’d still have time to run, after.
Gerard had been wrong. They’d come the day before the funeral, in their black and yellow uniforms, in their van. They’d come, and Gerard had said, politely, reasonably, that the funeral was the next day and they wanted to go, they wanted to be able to say goodbye to their grandmother.
The Enforcers hadn’t listened, but that hadn’t stopped Gerard asking, because he was just being reasonable, it was just reasonable and they’d have to see it eventually, wouldn’t they?
But they didn’t, and then they’d used their taser, on him and on Mikey, which Gerard also blamed himself for, and they’d dragged them out to the van and tossed them in the back and driven them to the Enforcer’s headquarters and put them in this cell. That had happened yesterday. It was eleven o’clock now, and on the other side of the city, Elena’s funeral was about to start.
“It’s my fault,” Gerard says again, because it’s important he accepts his responsibility for this situation. Because of him, Mikey’s been taken by the Enforcers, and he’s going to be sold. Gerard, too, but it’s his fault anyway, so that doesn’t matter.
Elena had been their only family for a long time. Mikey and Gerard had lived with their parents when they were little, until the car crash. Mikey had been five and Gerard had been eight. Then they’d gone to live with Elena, and she’d tried to love them enough for two parents. She always had, even when Gerard had had his status testing when he was ten and it turned out he was a void, even when the same thing had happened at Mikey’s status testing. She hadn’t sold them, like she could have, when they turned out to be voids, even during the times when money was tight and she didn’t need to be spending hers on two kids who’d never be able to hold down jobs and support themselves.
They’d all known something like this would happen one day, but it had come sooner than they’d expected. They hadn’t made the preparations they should have.
The next day they get moved out of the cell and taken to a salehouse. Gerard grips Mikey’s arm tightly, for all the good it will do. Gerard knows the likelihood they’ll be sold together is pretty low. This could very well be the last day he ever sees his brother. Gerard tries not to think about it.
He’s not being too successful at that, and he thinks Mikey is thinking about the same thing, because he grips back just as hard. In the salehouse, they get put in a pen for a little while, but Gerard thinks it’s less than an hour before someone comes and moves them to a different area.
They’re taken into the part of the building where customers come. Gerard can’t really make sense of the way the room’s laid out. There are clusters of people everywhere, grouped in no apparent order, chained around poles. He and Mikey are led up to a pole in a corner and their wrists are attached to the chain that loops around it. Then they’re left alone.
They’re not the only ones chained to this pole. Most of the others are their age or older, and they all look nervous. Gerard dismisses them and focuses on Mikey, who is looking pale and breathing shallowly.
“Remember your first day of school, Mikey?” he says softly, because it’s the first thing he thinks of. Mikey nods, so Gerard knows he’s listening, and continues.
“You didn’t want to go at first, because you thought the teachers would be zombies, for some reason.”
That actually gets a shaky laugh from Mikey. “Some reason, right. Can’t imagine how that happened.”
“Me either,” says Gerard, playing along. “I told you you’d be alright, because zombies only like to eat brains, but you weren’t reassured.”
“God, you’re such a jerk.” Mikey’s grinning as he says it, though. Well, his lips are turning up a little at the corners, which is sort of the same thing.
“Right. Well, anyway. Grandma, she gave you this pencil case with a unicorn on it, and she said you should keep it with you all the time, because zombies are afraid of unicorns.”
“Of course they are,” Mikey says. “God, the other kids gave me so much shit for that pencil case.”
“But you never threw it away.”
“No, I always kept it. I didn’t use it again after that year, but I had it in a drawer somewhere. I guess it’s still there.”
“Yeah,” says Gerard. “Probably.”
Mikey has stopped laughing, but he seems a bit steadier now. After a moment, he says, “Remember the time you wanted to join Drama Club...”
Mikey is interrupted by a loud voice nearby. “What’s in this lot?” the man asks.
A salesperson hurries over. “This group is over eighteen, male, freeborns,” he says. “Most of them have had at least a few years of service, although we have two...”
“Any of them got experience with janitorial work?”
“Uh, let me check.” The salesperson took out a data file, and after a moment said, “This one has some, this one has performed menial work in a kitchen, these were domestic slaves, so their duties likely included...”
“They’ll do,” the man says abruptly. “I’ll take the lot.”
Gerard grips Mikey’s hand way harder than he knows he should. He’s going to take the lot. What does that mean? Just the ones the salesperson mentioned? Or does it include him and Mikey? Will they be able to stay together?
Apparently, they will. While the salesperson talks finance with the buyer, two others come along and unhook the chain, leading the voids in one line out the back of the salehouse. A van is waiting there and they are all herded aboard. It’s a tight fit for nine men, but they all squeeze together and manage to fit. Gerard makes sure he is still next to Mikey. The doors are closed on them, and everyone seems to relax a bit. Gerard feels better, better than he has since they were picked up. Better, maybe, than he has since Elena died. It’s such a small thing, but now it’s the only thing that matters. He squeezes Mikey’s hand again. “Still together, Mikey,” he whispers.
Mikey squeezes back. “Still together.”
Fandom/Pairing: MCR gen
Wordcount: 1605
Warnings: Slavery, pre-story minor character death
Summary: Gerard has already lost Elena, he's not sure he can cope with losing Mikey too.
Written for the 'grief' square for hc_bingohc_bigno
“I’m sorry I got us caught.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It kind of is.”
“It’s not your fault, Gerard.”
Gerard sits in the corner of the cell and lets the guilt well up inside him. He knows it’s his fault. When Elena got sick, he’d been the one who made her soup, (attempted from scratch at first, but after that one disastrous effort, he’d just heated it from a can), and kept clean sheets on the bed. (He’d dyed the white sheets pink, but Elena had just smiled and said she liked him better that way. She’d been great like that.)
Mikey had been the one who worried about things. Like the hospital bills, because Elena was retired, and he and Gerard didn’t work. Couldn’t work. Mikey had been the one who organized selling the television, and Elena’s record collection, and then some of her earrings, to keep ahead of the bills.
When the doctors had shaken their heads, looked at their feet and said there was nothing more to be done, Gerard had cried in his room for half a day. Then he’d gone out, bought flowers and streamers and a new sketchbook, and went about decorating Elena’s room, filling it up with all the things she’d loved but couldn’t go out and see anymore. Every day he’d tried to make something new for her, so that she wasn’t trapped in a dull unchanging room waiting to die. Mikey had found other things to worry about then.
Mikey had started calling people, people he knew, contacts he had. There weren’t that many, but a few of them knew other people, and some of those people knew other people who might be able to help. Help Mikey and Gerard, because they were going to need it.
It had kind of pissed Gerard off. Elena was dying. It was all he could think about. All he wanted to do was take care of her and make sure she was okay. Elena had told him to have a bit of concern for himself. She had known what they were up against a lot better than Gerard had. Gerard had thought Mikey was being selfish, that he didn’t care. They’d had arguments about it. They’d had an argument about it that last day, the day before Elena had died.
When Elena had died, Gerard had planned the funeral. They couldn’t afford to make it as nice as he wanted. With Elena gone, they had no money. There was still the house, and the furniture, and Elena’s car that she hadn’t driven in three years, but those things didn’t belong to Gerard and Mikey. Voids weren’t allowed to own anything.
Elena had had insurance, but it wasn’t enough to plan a flashy funeral. She wouldn’t have wanted one anyway. Gerard organised nice flowers and a church for the service to be held, planned out readings and hymns with the priest. It was going to be nice. It would have been nice.
Mikey had wanted to run right then, the same day Gerard found Elena in her room not breathing. They’d had a really big argument that time. Gerard had thought they’d be able to go to the funeral, say goodbye. He’d thought they’d still have time to run, after.
Gerard had been wrong. They’d come the day before the funeral, in their black and yellow uniforms, in their van. They’d come, and Gerard had said, politely, reasonably, that the funeral was the next day and they wanted to go, they wanted to be able to say goodbye to their grandmother.
The Enforcers hadn’t listened, but that hadn’t stopped Gerard asking, because he was just being reasonable, it was just reasonable and they’d have to see it eventually, wouldn’t they?
But they didn’t, and then they’d used their taser, on him and on Mikey, which Gerard also blamed himself for, and they’d dragged them out to the van and tossed them in the back and driven them to the Enforcer’s headquarters and put them in this cell. That had happened yesterday. It was eleven o’clock now, and on the other side of the city, Elena’s funeral was about to start.
“It’s my fault,” Gerard says again, because it’s important he accepts his responsibility for this situation. Because of him, Mikey’s been taken by the Enforcers, and he’s going to be sold. Gerard, too, but it’s his fault anyway, so that doesn’t matter.
Elena had been their only family for a long time. Mikey and Gerard had lived with their parents when they were little, until the car crash. Mikey had been five and Gerard had been eight. Then they’d gone to live with Elena, and she’d tried to love them enough for two parents. She always had, even when Gerard had had his status testing when he was ten and it turned out he was a void, even when the same thing had happened at Mikey’s status testing. She hadn’t sold them, like she could have, when they turned out to be voids, even during the times when money was tight and she didn’t need to be spending hers on two kids who’d never be able to hold down jobs and support themselves.
They’d all known something like this would happen one day, but it had come sooner than they’d expected. They hadn’t made the preparations they should have.
The next day they get moved out of the cell and taken to a salehouse. Gerard grips Mikey’s arm tightly, for all the good it will do. Gerard knows the likelihood they’ll be sold together is pretty low. This could very well be the last day he ever sees his brother. Gerard tries not to think about it.
He’s not being too successful at that, and he thinks Mikey is thinking about the same thing, because he grips back just as hard. In the salehouse, they get put in a pen for a little while, but Gerard thinks it’s less than an hour before someone comes and moves them to a different area.
They’re taken into the part of the building where customers come. Gerard can’t really make sense of the way the room’s laid out. There are clusters of people everywhere, grouped in no apparent order, chained around poles. He and Mikey are led up to a pole in a corner and their wrists are attached to the chain that loops around it. Then they’re left alone.
They’re not the only ones chained to this pole. Most of the others are their age or older, and they all look nervous. Gerard dismisses them and focuses on Mikey, who is looking pale and breathing shallowly.
“Remember your first day of school, Mikey?” he says softly, because it’s the first thing he thinks of. Mikey nods, so Gerard knows he’s listening, and continues.
“You didn’t want to go at first, because you thought the teachers would be zombies, for some reason.”
That actually gets a shaky laugh from Mikey. “Some reason, right. Can’t imagine how that happened.”
“Me either,” says Gerard, playing along. “I told you you’d be alright, because zombies only like to eat brains, but you weren’t reassured.”
“God, you’re such a jerk.” Mikey’s grinning as he says it, though. Well, his lips are turning up a little at the corners, which is sort of the same thing.
“Right. Well, anyway. Grandma, she gave you this pencil case with a unicorn on it, and she said you should keep it with you all the time, because zombies are afraid of unicorns.”
“Of course they are,” Mikey says. “God, the other kids gave me so much shit for that pencil case.”
“But you never threw it away.”
“No, I always kept it. I didn’t use it again after that year, but I had it in a drawer somewhere. I guess it’s still there.”
“Yeah,” says Gerard. “Probably.”
Mikey has stopped laughing, but he seems a bit steadier now. After a moment, he says, “Remember the time you wanted to join Drama Club...”
Mikey is interrupted by a loud voice nearby. “What’s in this lot?” the man asks.
A salesperson hurries over. “This group is over eighteen, male, freeborns,” he says. “Most of them have had at least a few years of service, although we have two...”
“Any of them got experience with janitorial work?”
“Uh, let me check.” The salesperson took out a data file, and after a moment said, “This one has some, this one has performed menial work in a kitchen, these were domestic slaves, so their duties likely included...”
“They’ll do,” the man says abruptly. “I’ll take the lot.”
Gerard grips Mikey’s hand way harder than he knows he should. He’s going to take the lot. What does that mean? Just the ones the salesperson mentioned? Or does it include him and Mikey? Will they be able to stay together?
Apparently, they will. While the salesperson talks finance with the buyer, two others come along and unhook the chain, leading the voids in one line out the back of the salehouse. A van is waiting there and they are all herded aboard. It’s a tight fit for nine men, but they all squeeze together and manage to fit. Gerard makes sure he is still next to Mikey. The doors are closed on them, and everyone seems to relax a bit. Gerard feels better, better than he has since they were picked up. Better, maybe, than he has since Elena died. It’s such a small thing, but now it’s the only thing that matters. He squeezes Mikey’s hand again. “Still together, Mikey,” he whispers.
Mikey squeezes back. “Still together.”