You Are Not My Savior (part 3/3)
This is all his fault.
Gerard knew it was going to be bad, after Frank nearly tore them all apart during his rescue, after Ray wouldn’t speak for two weeks, after coming back from Battery City himself, but he didn’t think it would be this bad. Maybe there would be a lot of hugging, some waking up from nightmares, the usual post-capture care-that’s what he’d been expecting.
Not…this.
“I told you, he stopped hurting me after a while,” Mikey’s saying, staring down at his lap. His face is a little fuzzy from the smoke and heat haze of the fire, and Gerard wants to scoot over and sit next to him, but Mikey made him promise. They sit across from each other, no contact, talking until it’s Frank or Ray’s turn to keep watch.
“But he still had hurt you. Nothing he does afterwards can make up for something like that.”
“What, so we can’t forgive anyone?” Mikey doesn’t look up. He usually doesn’t, but Gerard keeps his eyes forward constantly during these times, just in case.
“I didn’t say that.” Mikey’s always putting words in Gerard’s mouth, and it’s starting to get irritating. “You can’t forgive him for that. Especially since he probably only stopped torturing you because he didn’t need to anymore.”
“How do you know that? Maybe he just got tired of asking questions and just-“
“They’re printing our full names on those wanted posters, Mikey.”
Mikey stiffens. Gerard’s going to have to tread carefully here; one wrong step could either help Mikey or break him even more.
He speaks slowly, watching Mikey’s movements with every word. “I know what you went through, I know it must have been hard, but…you sold us out. You gave them what they wanted.”
Mikey flinches, his shoulders hunching defensively, like he’s bracing for something-waiting to be punished. Gerard almost takes it back, apologizes for everything, because Mikey just looks so lonely and hurt he can barely stand it, but he can’t stop now.
There’s an opportunity here.
He breaks the line, moves around the fire until he’s close enough to wrap his arms around Mikey’s shoulders.
“But I forgive you.”
Mikey’s tense, probably still waiting for Gerard to lash out at him, but he doesn’t speak or move.
“I forgive you, because I know it must have been hard. I understand. More than anyone else, I understand what it must have been like.” He holds Mikey a little closer, just from the side, not touching his neck or head. Definitely not his hair.
“We’re not the bad guys, remember?”
Mikey nods, the tiniest little movement that Gerard might not have seen if he weren’t this close.
“But BLI, they are the bad guys. They’re the ones fucking everything up, and we’re going to unfuck it. Sound good?”
Mikey nods again, but he still won’t speak, and they’re both still and quiet for a while. Gerard doesn’t let go until Mikey mumbles that it’s their turn to sleep, shifting away from Gerard’s arms to go wake up Frank.
Gerard has trouble sleeping after that, at least half an hour wasted trying to convince himself that what he’d done was okay.
~
He remembers:
Waking up the first day and pulling at leather restraints until his wrists were rubbed raw, spitting in Korse’s face when he started asking questions, laughing and shouting and screaming through the shocks.
He says:
“I told you, Mikey, I just tricked him into letting me go, and he got pissed. That’s why he hates me so much.”
Giving away nothing for a week, realizing Korse wasn’t going to stop until he spilled, trying to think of a way out.
“But how? Just sneaking out behind his back would hurt his pride, yeah, but this seems…I dunno. He really fucking hates you.”
Keeping his eyes on Korse one morning as he walked in, trying to look and feel comfortable in the position he was strapped into, asking before Korse could start speaking, “How’s your day been?”
“Maybe I’m the first one who’s escaped without help. I don’t know, seriously, it’s not a big deal.”
Korse raising an eyebrow, but answering, “Fine, Poison. And yours?” His saying the last word with a smirk and a gesture to start hooking up the machine. Laughing and answering back, “Shitty as usual, I suppose. So what’s the quiz question of the day?”
Korse laughing, actually laughing.
Trying to hide a smile before the first pulse shoots through him.
“Something went on between you two. Something big. Something that made him decide to fuck me up in revenge.”
“So you’ve finally agreed you’re fucked up? I think that’s a good first step.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Already have.”
~
“How’s he doing?” Frank asks, passing his can of kibble for Gerard to take a few bites.
“Better? Maybe. I don’t know, it’s fucking scary, having to look it in the face like this.” The kibble’s disgusting as fuck as usual, but he’s almost forgotten what real food tastes like anyway.
“Does he still want to go back?”
Gerard passes the can over. “I can’t tell. I think it’s less of him wanting to go back and more…not being sure where to go, who to trust. That’s what Korse really did, made him think we might be the bad guys and they might be the good guys, maybe sorta kinda. He’s confused. It’s back and forth all the time-one day he’s agreeing with everything I say, the next he’s shouting at me about how I need to listen.”
“So you just need to give him a convincing argument.” Frank scrapes up the last of the kibble and holds out the fork to Gerard. “Beat him over the head with how fucking good we are until he’s got a bruise big enough to make him remember.”
“Mm. Maybe.” Gerard takes the bite, sucking a little at the fork to make sure he gets everything. Frank takes the clean fork back and puts it in his own mouth, an odd little indirect kiss that Gerard shouldn’t find so endearing. They’re fighting for their lives in the middle of the desert and one of them could lose any minute, there’s no time for sweet gestures.
But Frank always does it anyway, a hug here, a held hand there, a word of praise or comfort whenever he can work it in. Even when they’re fucking-something they all do, something that’s just there to keep them sane in a crazy world-Frank seems like he’s making a serious effort with Gerard. Like it’s something just the two of them do, like it’s some kind of special connection.
Gerard always thinks about reciprocating, but it’d be too difficult to complicate his relationship with a member of his team, especially now. If this ever ends, if they’re ever able to settle down and just live instead of fight, maybe.
But right now, he gets up from his seat in the diner (a new one they found about a week ago, they’re still waiting a few more months before risking going back to the old one) to go outside, leaving Frank to suck on his used fork.
~
“Gee?” Grace asks one morning as they’re all working on the car. “Are you a good guy?”
Gerard freezes, nearly dropping the brush he’s holding. A drop of paint hits the sand, and Gerard curses silently.
“Are you?”
Gerard puts the brush on top of the container of paint and squats down to meet Grace at eye level. “Yes. We’re all good guys. Why do you ask?”
“Mikey was saying stuff.”
Fuck. He knew staying away from Mikey for too long was going to be a problem, and now he’s gone and tried to indoctrinate Grace into the bullshit they’ve been trying to keep her away from ever since they found her, and-
“He said there’s no such thing as good guys and bad guys.”
“He’s wrong.” Gerard stares at her in a way he hopes is how a father is supposed to look. “Look, Mikey’s-something happened to him. The bad guys got him, and they made him think that they aren’t so bad.”
“But they are bad?”
“Yes. And that’s why we’re trying to stop them.”
“But they’re trying to stop us, too, so what-“
“Grace.” Gerard sighs and smoothes his hair back, ignoring the fact that he’s probably getting paint in it. “You’re going to have to trust me on this, okay? BLI did a lot of bad things and I promise you’ll understand when you’re older, but…just don’t listen to Mikey.”
Grace looks at him. He knows she doesn’t like the “you’ll get it when you’re older” argument and he’s waiting for her to fight, but she just looks at the ground and says “Okay.”
She doesn’t look like she believes him. Gerard’s going to scream.
He almost does, too, the next time he gets the chance to pull Mikey aside, at the end of the day behind the shelter they’re squatting in tonight, Mikey shoved against the wall.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Gerard hisses, both hands on Mikey’s shoulders.
Mikey’s only answer is to stare back at him and look confused, the fucker.
“You’re trying to turn Grace against me, now? Who’s next, Ray? Frank?”
“Frank wouldn’t turn against you, he’s your fucking lapdog.” Mikey doesn’t even sound angry about it, and somehow that pisses Gerard off even more.
“He’s not my fucking dog, he just knows that I’m right and they’re wrong.”
Mikey raises an eyebrow, and Gerard hesitates, going back over what he said.
“…That we’re right and they’re wrong, is what I meant. Fuck, Mikey, don’t do this. I’m trying to help you. I thought you wanted to trust us again.”
“I-“ Mikey looks away. “I just want to trust someone.”
Gerard leans in and presses their foreheads together, as if he could send believe me listen to me trust me love me please Mikey please from his brain directly into his brother’s. He can feel Mikey’s breathing pick up, little stutters of breath that hit the corner of Gerard’s mouth. Fuck. He leans back, but doesn't let go of Mikey’s shoulders.
It shouldn’t be like this. Mikey shouldn’t be flinching away every time Gerard gets near him. Gerard shouldn’t be holding his kid brother against a fucking wall and fighting to be heard. He has enough trouble getting the population of Battery City to listen to him, if he can’t even talk to his own brother-
Gerard’s running out of options. He’s tried being reasonable, he’s tried being logical, he’s tried fucking therapy sessions by firelight, but nothing can seem to get Mikey back to the way he was-pissed off at BLI and always behind Gerard’s plans to take them down.
Mikey starts to speak again, shaking Gerard out of his thoughts. “Maybe I should just take off on my own for a while, maybe-“
“No,” Gerard snaps before he can stop himself, because Mikey leaving him is the last thing he needs right now. Mikey winces at the tone and shuts up, and Gerard sighs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-I just don’t think you should be alone right now. It won’t help you.”
“How do you know?” Mikey relaxes a little after Gerard’s apology, but he doesn’t back down. “I could go find a place to squat on my own, get my head together-“
“And leave us wondering the whole time if you were going to come back?” It’s a gamble and a cheap shot all at once, and Gerard has to hold in a sigh of relief when Mikey’s shoulders slump.
His thumb brushes Mikey’s neck as he leans in to say something else, and-and Mikey fucking shivers. It’s just a little twitch, but he’s leaning into Gerard instead of cringing away like he has been, and fuck, fuck fuck fuck, he knows where this is going. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t even think about taking advantage like this, not since the last time, but.
“Mikey,” he says slowly. “You have to stop being so stubborn about this. There’s a difference between seeing it from the other guy’s perspective and blocking both sides out.” His hand moves to the back of Mikey’s neck, just resting there. Mikey doesn’t move, staring at Gerard apprehensively, his expression exaggerated in the slowly fading sunlight.
“You trusted us before. You were committed to this, to kicking BLI in the teeth and getting our color back.” Gerard takes a breath, then holds back the words I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry Mikey please forgive me as he lets his hand move into Mikey’s hair.
It’s the same reaction he got the last time, the one that made him never want to do this again. Mikey stops moving, stops breathing, stares at Gerard with a mixture of confusion and fear and-and something he can't define, doesn't want to. He’s going to be sick, he has to stop this, but Mikey’s paying more attention to him than he ever has since the other day he did this. He lets his hand run all the way through Mikey’s hair, and Mikey shivers again.
“Don’t you remember?” Gerard asks, barely able to keep his voice from shaking. “You and me, shooting down Dracs, painting the guns, listening to Doctor D’s transmissions together…” He pushes Mikey’s bangs out of his face, exposing his eyes, and Gerard’s so close to letting go and apologizing, but then Mikey nods. He remembers.
“It’s hard, yeah, the sun and the heat and the running, but you never complained before. You knew that what we were doing, it was better than going back to the pills and working in a factory.” He runs his fingers through Mikey’s hair the same way he does with his own, straight back, fluffing it up a bit. It still feels unnaturally clean, the way it was when they first got him back. Gerard wants to rub dust and dirt and sweat and blood into it until it’s as filthy as it was before Korse took him away, and he tries not to think too hard about that image running through his head.
Mikey’s eyes shut, and he starts taking slow, even breaths. He’s trying to ignore Gerard, to block everything out so he can focus on his own fucked-up thoughts, and Gerard’s not going to let that happen.
“Look at me, Mikey.”
Mikey doesn’t open his eyes, and Gerard digs his nails in behind his ear, making Mikey flinch and shudder and-and Gerard wants to believe the little gasp he hears is out of surprise.
“Look at me.” Gerard’s used to giving orders, to being the leader, but not like this. It’s difficult just to put any amount of authority in his voice and fake all the confidence he can.
Mikey’s eyes open. He won’t move, but he doesn’t recoil when Gerard puts his other hand on Mikey’s shoulder, pulling him a little closer.
“Mikey, you’re a zonerunner. It’s just who you are, who you’ve always been, since you threw your pills away all by yourself.” He leans forward until their noses nearly touch, never breaking eye contact. “It was your idea to try out rebelling against BLI, it was my idea to leave the city. We worked off each other, we trusted each other. I trusted you because I’ve known you my whole life, and I love you more than anyone else in this whole fucking desert does. Why did you trust me?”
He asks a question because he needs a response from Mikey, something that isn’t just a blank look and a nod. Any more of that and he’s going to back off out of sheer disgust in himself.
“You were…right,” Mikey says quietly, sounding surprised at his own words. “You were right. I hated the city, I just…didn’t think of actually leaving.”
“And I did.” Gerard relaxes his hand, but doesn’t let it leave Mikey’s hair. “I did, and you agreed, because it made sense. Right?”
“Right.”
Gerard pulls him into a full-on hug, one hand still on the back of Mikey’s head. It could be out of relief, it could be out of the need to comfort him, it could be out of not wanting to see Mikey’s face like this, he doesn’t even know anymore. Mikey melts into it, leaning into him and pressing his face into Gerard’s neck, his breath short but not gasping. It feels like there should be some kind of barrier between them, but they fit together like they have their whole lives.
“You still trust me,” he whispers, almost like it’s an order, no matter how much he wishes it weren’t. “You just needed to remember why.”
Mikey nods. He’s breathing a little harder, making the hair on the back of Gerard’s neck stand on end.
He remembers:
Being released from the leather straps holding him down and forced to his hands and knees on the ground, Korse stripping him naked, struggling to get away but barely able to move after another shock session and no food for the past three days.
“What’s wrong, Poison? Isn’t this why you left the city, because we refuse to let you have this?”
Biting back insults, reminding himself that he had a plan, he could work with this, he just needed to focus-
Pressureburnpain as Korse opened him up, his fingers cold and nowhere near wet enough, trying not to cry out and failing miserably.
Korse hissing as he pushed in, and whispering, “It didn’t have to come to this. You could have cooperated.”
Being stretched until he was waiting to have to fight back tears, almost laughing when he realized he’d taken worse pain over the past few weeks, that this was nothing. Exhaling sharply as Korse started to move at a steady pace.
Thinking about the others. Praying to whatever static gods might be listening that this would work.
“Fuck.”
“What was that?”
Forcing a smile onto his face. “Fuck…yeah. Yeah.”
Korse stopping.
“Come on, fuck, keep going.”
Korse starting to move again, faster, making it hurt like fuck. Trying to keep from letting his voice go too high as he faked a moan and pushed himself back.
“Fuck, Korse, faster, you fucker.”
He says:
“I’m sorry, Mikey.”
“…For what?”
Gerard just keeps petting the back of Mikey’s head and holding him close. Mikey doesn’t speak for the rest of the night.
~
He gets the idea the next morning, and nearly shoves it away immediately, locks it in his mental box of things that shouldn’t be done, but it’s the quiet hours just after dawn, and Gerard always thinks way too hard at this time of day. This could work. He doesn’t want to admit that, but it could.
He rolls over in his sleeping bag to see Mikey, asleep and probably still dreaming-about what, Gerard doesn’t want to know-and he reaches over to shake him awake.
“Hey.”
Mikey makes a small noise, but doesn’t open his eyes. Gerard shakes his shoulder harder.
“Hey, c’mon. Wake up, Kobra.”
Mikey’s eyes pop open, a little sleep-hazy but wide. Gerard wants to go back to sleep. Forever.
He smiles instead. “We’re heading out soon. Help me start packing up the camp?”
Mikey nods, his mouth moving a bit but not saying anything.
Gerard ruffles his hair, like he would have done before all this, but with a bit more attention to the back. “You’re the best, Kid.”
Mikey takes about five minutes before actually standing up to help Gerard, but he doesn’t argue at all.
~
He tells Frank and Ray what to do as soon as he can talk to them out of Mikey’s earshot.
“Hey, Kobra, pass me the screwdriver.”
“Fucking fuck, it’s hot out. Don’t know how Kobra there can stand wearing that jacket all the time.”
“Gonna finish that kibble, Kid?”
“What color do you think we should try next, Kobra?”
“Kid, up for some target practice?”
Mikey responds to the name, but it always takes him a second, and he never looks happy about it. But he doesn’t bring it up with Gerard. That’s enough for him.
Gerard starts spending more time with his hands in Mikey’s hair. Little touches, a brush here and a scratch there, but there’s no hesitation. He doesn’t let himself stop, and he doesn’t give Mikey a chance to move away.
He hates himself for it, a little, but when Mikey starts responding to his old name almost instantly, and doesn’t wince as much when Gerard touches him, it’s difficult to find much reason to feel guilty.
At least, no reason he could find on his own.
“I’m not sure about this,” Frank whispers to him one night, glancing nervously at the other side of the camp where Mikey’s sleeping. “I mean, not just the name thing. The touching thing. What if you fuck him up even-“
“When you break a bone,” Gerard interrupts, speaking slowly and carefully, “and it heals wrong? You have to break it again, so you can set it right.”
“But what if he can’t handle all this, what if he just-“
“Frank.” He puts a hand on Frank’s shoulder and leans in closer, “He’ll be fine. Stop worrying.”
Frank doesn’t flinch away, but he does stare apprehensively at Gerard for a moment before asking quietly, “You end all your arguments like this?”
Gerard lets go, but he doesn’t answer, doesn’t apologize.
~
“I’m sorry.”
Gerard takes his hand off Mikey’s head, which is half-pillowed in his lap. “For what?” It’s not so much a question as it is a cue to continue.
“For getting caught. For talking. For almost buying into their bullshit. Just…for everything.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He cups Mikey’s cheek and stares down at him. “It wasn't your fault. It was his. He fucks with your head, it’s his job.”
He remembers:
Kissing Korse for the first time, leaning forward and pressing their mouths together while Korse fucked him against the wall.
Korse jerking back and nearly dropping him, losing the rhythm completely. “What are you doing?”
“Come on, try it. You’ll like it.” Smiling saccharine-sweet as he leaned in again.
He says:
“You have to fuck with him, or else he’ll fuck with you.”
“…And you fucked with him?”
“The best I could.” Maybe a bit too much. “He fucking deserved it.”
“He did,” Mikey agrees, and it’s the best thing Gerard’s heard in months.
“So don’t feel bad.” He rests his hand back on the top of Mikey’s head. “We’ve all done things we’re not too proud of.”
Kissing Korse’s neck, collarbone, chest, muttering about how good he looked, how much he couldn’t wait.
Korse hissing in his ear as he pressed in, “I’m going to show you off. Take you to a meeting tomorrow, you on your knees by my side, show all of BLI how much you’re mine.”
Gasping out, “Yours, all yours,” because lying through his teeth was so much easier when things were going his way.
“It’ll be okay. You’re back with us. We’ll start fighting again soon, and you can pay him back.”
Kneeling at the end of a table next to where Korse was sitting, discussing plans and pointing out hot zones on maps to unmasked Draculoids. Waiting.
“I’ll let you shoot him in his fucking face. We’ll take out all his Dracs, then I’ll hold him while you shoot.”
Snatching Korse’s gun as soon as he stopped paying attention to him, firing two shots into Korse’s chest before standing up and taking shots at the Dracs.
“I’ll make sure you get your goddamn revenge, Kobra. You can count on me.”
Shooting the mechanism on the back of his own neck and swearing as it sent a jolt through him, but only for a few seconds. Ripping off the collar and dashing for the door.
“Poison!”
“…Hey, Gee?”
“Yeah?”
Ignoring his better judgment and turning around. Korse clutching at his chest and struggling to stand up. Whirring noises coming from him every time he moved.
Smirking and pointing the gun at him again.
“…Call me Mikey?”
Running.
“…You’re the Kobra Kid, now. Will be until we’re all dust in the desert.”
Running.
“You can call me Poison from now on, if it makes you feel better.”
Running.
“They already know our names, we don’t have to-“
“Then we give up those names. We don’t need them anymore.”
Taking a bike from the garages and tearing out of the city as fast as possible, checking the frequencies on the built-in radio.
“We’re not those people. We’re Party Poison, Jet Star, Fun Ghoul, and Kobra Kid.”
Driving half-blind, wishing he’d stolen a helmet, still flipping through channel after channel. “Any runners hearing me? Party Poison here. I need some help.”
“That’s who we are and who we’ll be. Nothing can change that.”
“Party Poison here, east side of Zone 1, is anyone there?”
“…Poison? Holy shit, you’re alive? Guys, get over here!”
Letting out a sigh of relief and nearly choking on dust. “Hey, Kobra. Where can I find you?”
“…I guess it’s better than Michael.”
Riding to the Killjoys’ camp and getting mobbed by the others, reassuring them that he’s not hurt, he’s not on any pills, he won’t be tracked.
Holding Mikey close, mumbling “Missed you,” and Mikey echoing him.
“See? You’ll get used to it. We’re all adjusting to this, we have been ever since we left. This will only help.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Kobra falls asleep like that, smiling faintly as Poison runs dirty fingers through his dusty hair.
masterpost+bonus content