Rock's Answer To Death (An MCR and Brendon Urie story so far), chapter 1
It was a cold night. An unusual atmosphere for the middle of summer, especially as Illinois had just experienced it's longest heat wave in 17 years. Yet here he lay on the frosted streets of Chicago, breathless, waiting for someone to find him, but at 1o'clock in the morning in the morning, this place was deserted. A ghost town. The glow of streetlamps struggled to light the empty road and the thick, black, veil seemed to swamp the sleepy town, who rested at ease, oblivious to the fact that someone as they slept.
Brendon, on the other hand, was fully aware of the fact. He tried to call out but his weak, muffled croak barely broke the silence. So he rested, thinking about his final moments. Did he deserve this? Of course he didn't. He was only nineteen, with a promising career in music ahead of him. But now there was no future, no fame, no wife, no kids - just death. He was just an innocent person who just happened to walk the streets of Chicago at the wrong time and bumped into the wrong people - with the right guns! As soon as glance at the gang, they had dragged him down and shot him six times. He lay there, helpless, while they hurried off to avoid detection. And now he was in this mess. He could feel the strength draining from his body, just as his blood was doing. He felt tears well up in his eyes, as he retraced his greatest memories in his mind. In all the nineteen years he'd been alive, he'd never once cried, and he was determined not to let these tears escape, this extra strain making the pain even more intense. As he desperately scanned his surroundings for any form of life, Brendon noticed everything around him seemed to blend into each other and the six bloodied holes in his limp body had become numb. Somehow, he could sense that it was too late for him so he relaxed and closed his eyes. As darkness consumed him, he realised a strange feeling had flooded over him, like a huge weight being lifted form his body. He couldn't open his eyes, but he didn't want to either, he just wanted to rest. Suddenly a huge jolt through his body ended the sensation. He lay still.
***
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, another life was slowly fading. A young man lay silent and lifeless in the ICU department of Chicago General Hospital. His thin body looked even smaller in amongst all the tubes and wires connected to him.
The silent atmosphere was broken by the soft whimper of a tall, slim man who had just entered the room. He was followed by a much shorter, slightly chubbier man with dark hair who seemed to be struggling to fight back tears.
"He looks so much worse than yesterday," the tall man sobbed, his voice cracking as he did so. He adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses in an attempt to hide his teary eyes. The other guy sighed.
"He's gonna be okay, Mike, Gerard's strong, you know that, and you have to stay strong for him too," he said in a sympathetic tone.
"Thanks for trying to make me feel better," Mikey replied. "But both you and I know he's gonna die," he continued. "You don't know what it's like, Frank, I'm gonna loose my big brother." Frankie embraced his friend in a hug, as they both broke down.
"It'll be okay, Mikey, It'll get easier with time."
"How can it!?" Mikey snapped back. "Once he's gone, he's gone for good. He'll never come back; he'll never be his same old self again. How can anything heel that? Mikey was bright red now. Frankie just stared at him blankly.
"Please don't take it out on me, Mikey, you're just making things worse. Do you think it's easy for me? Do you think I like seeing my best friend lying in a hospital bed dying!? Of course I don't, but I don't mope around shouting at everyone else. I value my..." Frankie's rant was disturbed by the flickering of Gerard's eyelids. The room fell silent.
"Gerard," Mikey said softly, as he kneeled down next to him, his eyes fixated on his brother's pale face. "Frankie, go get someone, quick!" he whispered. Frankie nodded then dashed out of the room. Mikey gently stroked Gerard's hand as tears began to well up in his eyes again. "Gerard, please talk to me," he begged. Suddenly Gerard's eyes flicked wide open. He started desperately gasping for breath. "It's okay, it's alright," Mikey said panicking. He searched the bed for anything that might help but he didn't know what any of the equipment did so he just sat, helpless, trying to comfort his brother as best he could. He was relieved when Frankie came running in, almost as breathless as Gerard, followed by a nurse. Shock drained his face of it's pinkie colour as he noticed Gerard's state. The nurse ran over to him and pulled an oxygen mask over his face.
"Why didn't I think of that," Mikey mumbled, angry with himself for not helping. She then injected something into his hand and took his pulse. She turned to Mikey, a solemn look infecting her face. He noticed that Gerard's eyes were slowly closing and his rigid body weakened.
"I'm afraid the news isn't good," the nurse said, seriously. "He's deteriorating fast, all we can do now is pray." She gave a brief smile and left the room. Mikey slumped into a chair and cupped his hands around his face. He began to sob as reality sank in. Frankie didn't dare to move or break the silence, he just sat in a chair, teary eyed, listening to the quiet beep of Gerard's life support.
Mikey stood up suddenly. "I better go call my Mom," he announced, leaving Frankie alone with Gerard. As he stumbled through the car park, trying to get a good signal, he noticed two familiar faces in the car in front of him. He saw Ray point, then Bob rolled down his window.
"Umm...how's Gerard?" he muttered. Mikey could tell he'd been crying a little.
"Gerard's," Mikey looked to the sky, "he's dying." He raised his eyebrows and a surprisingly calm look spread across his face. He glanced at Ray who burst into a flood of tears. Bob patted his back.
"You wanna go see him now?" Ray looked at Bob, then Mikey.
"I can't, I just can't bring myself to."
"C'mon," urged Bob, "he'd really wanna see you."
Bob smiled. "Ain't that right Mikey?" Mikey half smiled.
"Yeah, sure" he replied. Ray just nodded and got out of the car. Bob followed. Mikey called his mother then the three of them walked up to Gerard's room.
Mikey's face dropped when he saw Frankie sobbing. "What's wrong?" he demanded.
"They're...switching him...off," he stammered.
"What?" Mikey frowned.
"His life support, they're turning it off." Frank broke down again. Ray placed a hand on his shoulder. Mikey looked at Bob in utter shock.
"They can't do that, can they?" Mikey asked Bob desperately.
"I... I..."
"Mr. Way," a doctor announced, interrupting Bob.
"Umm, doctor, there's been a mix-up," Mikey said.
"Oh really," the doctor said in a slightly mocking tone.
"Yeah," Mikey glared. "I think you'll find nobody's given you consent to switch off my brother's support."
"Well I think you'll find that in certain cases such as you're brother's we don't need consent." The doctor gave both Gerard and Mikey a dirty look, then walked out of the room. "I shall be back in about ten minutes," he called over his shoulder. Mikey was shaking with anger.
"I'm gonna murder his fucking ass," he growled, puffing on his inhaler.
Meanwhile, Gerard lay still, but no one actually realised that he was fully aware of what was going on around him. It killed him to hear Mikey so upset and he waould have given anything to go and console him, tell him he was okay and that everything was going to be fine. But he wasn't okay. He couldn't move and he couldn't open his eyes. He was in so much pain and he was totally helpless and now this stupid-ass doctor was going to come and kill him off. He knew Mikey would be devastated. They were always so close. He felt terrible for him.
***
For the first time in ages Mikey smiled as his parents shuffled into the room. His mother instantly broke out crying when she saw her ill son.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she croaked as her husband comforted her.
"I was gonna call you..."
"You were gonna call me! Mikey, being unorganised has always been you're weakness, but this has taken it too far."
"I'm so sorry." Mikey looked down at his shoes, feeling ashamed, then looked back up at his father who nodded then smiled, signalling he was forgiven. Mikey turned his head towards his brother.
"Mom," he said, unable to bring himself to look at her.
"Yes?" she whispered.
"There's something I need to tell you...about Gerard," he added.
"What Hon?" He turned to look at her and noticed she was smiling warmly at him.
"The doctors, they're gonna, well," he swallowed hard and continued. "Switch off his life support. They said they have no choice and neither do we." The anger came flooding back. He stared at his mother who looked shocked.
"Umm, you alright Mrs Way?" Frankie suddenly piped up.
"Oh hey Frank, sweetie, I didn't see you there," she muttered looking extremely depressed.
"Come on Mom." Mikey beckoned his mother into the hallway. She followed slowly, reluctant to leave her dying boy. Mikey took out a packet of cigarettes and handed her one.
"What exactly happened?" she asked.
"God, I feel so guilty," Mikey said as he stared out the tiny window. "He was at my house and we had a fight over something stupid, I can't even remember what it was now, but anyway, I offended him and he got upset so he said he was leaving. The next thing I know, I got the cops at my door telling me his car's smashed through a fence and into the woodland on the other side. I guess I got him so wound up he just didn't pay attention...I feel so bad," he trailed off, feeling tears pricking his eyes once more.
"Don't blame yourself for one second, Honey," his mother smiled. "Let's go back in." Mikey took one last drag of his cigarette then stubbed it out and re-entered the room, followed by his mother. They hadn't been in there two minutes when that smug asshole doctor came back in.
"I'm afraid it's time to say goodnight now," he said in a fakely sympathised voice.
Brendon, on the other hand, was fully aware of the fact. He tried to call out but his weak, muffled croak barely broke the silence. So he rested, thinking about his final moments. Did he deserve this? Of course he didn't. He was only nineteen, with a promising career in music ahead of him. But now there was no future, no fame, no wife, no kids - just death. He was just an innocent person who just happened to walk the streets of Chicago at the wrong time and bumped into the wrong people - with the right guns! As soon as glance at the gang, they had dragged him down and shot him six times. He lay there, helpless, while they hurried off to avoid detection. And now he was in this mess. He could feel the strength draining from his body, just as his blood was doing. He felt tears well up in his eyes, as he retraced his greatest memories in his mind. In all the nineteen years he'd been alive, he'd never once cried, and he was determined not to let these tears escape, this extra strain making the pain even more intense. As he desperately scanned his surroundings for any form of life, Brendon noticed everything around him seemed to blend into each other and the six bloodied holes in his limp body had become numb. Somehow, he could sense that it was too late for him so he relaxed and closed his eyes. As darkness consumed him, he realised a strange feeling had flooded over him, like a huge weight being lifted form his body. He couldn't open his eyes, but he didn't want to either, he just wanted to rest. Suddenly a huge jolt through his body ended the sensation. He lay still.
***
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, another life was slowly fading. A young man lay silent and lifeless in the ICU department of Chicago General Hospital. His thin body looked even smaller in amongst all the tubes and wires connected to him.
The silent atmosphere was broken by the soft whimper of a tall, slim man who had just entered the room. He was followed by a much shorter, slightly chubbier man with dark hair who seemed to be struggling to fight back tears.
"He looks so much worse than yesterday," the tall man sobbed, his voice cracking as he did so. He adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses in an attempt to hide his teary eyes. The other guy sighed.
"He's gonna be okay, Mike, Gerard's strong, you know that, and you have to stay strong for him too," he said in a sympathetic tone.
"Thanks for trying to make me feel better," Mikey replied. "But both you and I know he's gonna die," he continued. "You don't know what it's like, Frank, I'm gonna loose my big brother." Frankie embraced his friend in a hug, as they both broke down.
"It'll be okay, Mikey, It'll get easier with time."
"How can it!?" Mikey snapped back. "Once he's gone, he's gone for good. He'll never come back; he'll never be his same old self again. How can anything heel that? Mikey was bright red now. Frankie just stared at him blankly.
"Please don't take it out on me, Mikey, you're just making things worse. Do you think it's easy for me? Do you think I like seeing my best friend lying in a hospital bed dying!? Of course I don't, but I don't mope around shouting at everyone else. I value my..." Frankie's rant was disturbed by the flickering of Gerard's eyelids. The room fell silent.
"Gerard," Mikey said softly, as he kneeled down next to him, his eyes fixated on his brother's pale face. "Frankie, go get someone, quick!" he whispered. Frankie nodded then dashed out of the room. Mikey gently stroked Gerard's hand as tears began to well up in his eyes again. "Gerard, please talk to me," he begged. Suddenly Gerard's eyes flicked wide open. He started desperately gasping for breath. "It's okay, it's alright," Mikey said panicking. He searched the bed for anything that might help but he didn't know what any of the equipment did so he just sat, helpless, trying to comfort his brother as best he could. He was relieved when Frankie came running in, almost as breathless as Gerard, followed by a nurse. Shock drained his face of it's pinkie colour as he noticed Gerard's state. The nurse ran over to him and pulled an oxygen mask over his face.
"Why didn't I think of that," Mikey mumbled, angry with himself for not helping. She then injected something into his hand and took his pulse. She turned to Mikey, a solemn look infecting her face. He noticed that Gerard's eyes were slowly closing and his rigid body weakened.
"I'm afraid the news isn't good," the nurse said, seriously. "He's deteriorating fast, all we can do now is pray." She gave a brief smile and left the room. Mikey slumped into a chair and cupped his hands around his face. He began to sob as reality sank in. Frankie didn't dare to move or break the silence, he just sat in a chair, teary eyed, listening to the quiet beep of Gerard's life support.
Mikey stood up suddenly. "I better go call my Mom," he announced, leaving Frankie alone with Gerard. As he stumbled through the car park, trying to get a good signal, he noticed two familiar faces in the car in front of him. He saw Ray point, then Bob rolled down his window.
"Umm...how's Gerard?" he muttered. Mikey could tell he'd been crying a little.
"Gerard's," Mikey looked to the sky, "he's dying." He raised his eyebrows and a surprisingly calm look spread across his face. He glanced at Ray who burst into a flood of tears. Bob patted his back.
"You wanna go see him now?" Ray looked at Bob, then Mikey.
"I can't, I just can't bring myself to."
"C'mon," urged Bob, "he'd really wanna see you."
Bob smiled. "Ain't that right Mikey?" Mikey half smiled.
"Yeah, sure" he replied. Ray just nodded and got out of the car. Bob followed. Mikey called his mother then the three of them walked up to Gerard's room.
Mikey's face dropped when he saw Frankie sobbing. "What's wrong?" he demanded.
"They're...switching him...off," he stammered.
"What?" Mikey frowned.
"His life support, they're turning it off." Frank broke down again. Ray placed a hand on his shoulder. Mikey looked at Bob in utter shock.
"They can't do that, can they?" Mikey asked Bob desperately.
"I... I..."
"Mr. Way," a doctor announced, interrupting Bob.
"Umm, doctor, there's been a mix-up," Mikey said.
"Oh really," the doctor said in a slightly mocking tone.
"Yeah," Mikey glared. "I think you'll find nobody's given you consent to switch off my brother's support."
"Well I think you'll find that in certain cases such as you're brother's we don't need consent." The doctor gave both Gerard and Mikey a dirty look, then walked out of the room. "I shall be back in about ten minutes," he called over his shoulder. Mikey was shaking with anger.
"I'm gonna murder his fucking ass," he growled, puffing on his inhaler.
Meanwhile, Gerard lay still, but no one actually realised that he was fully aware of what was going on around him. It killed him to hear Mikey so upset and he waould have given anything to go and console him, tell him he was okay and that everything was going to be fine. But he wasn't okay. He couldn't move and he couldn't open his eyes. He was in so much pain and he was totally helpless and now this stupid-ass doctor was going to come and kill him off. He knew Mikey would be devastated. They were always so close. He felt terrible for him.
***
For the first time in ages Mikey smiled as his parents shuffled into the room. His mother instantly broke out crying when she saw her ill son.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she croaked as her husband comforted her.
"I was gonna call you..."
"You were gonna call me! Mikey, being unorganised has always been you're weakness, but this has taken it too far."
"I'm so sorry." Mikey looked down at his shoes, feeling ashamed, then looked back up at his father who nodded then smiled, signalling he was forgiven. Mikey turned his head towards his brother.
"Mom," he said, unable to bring himself to look at her.
"Yes?" she whispered.
"There's something I need to tell you...about Gerard," he added.
"What Hon?" He turned to look at her and noticed she was smiling warmly at him.
"The doctors, they're gonna, well," he swallowed hard and continued. "Switch off his life support. They said they have no choice and neither do we." The anger came flooding back. He stared at his mother who looked shocked.
"Umm, you alright Mrs Way?" Frankie suddenly piped up.
"Oh hey Frank, sweetie, I didn't see you there," she muttered looking extremely depressed.
"Come on Mom." Mikey beckoned his mother into the hallway. She followed slowly, reluctant to leave her dying boy. Mikey took out a packet of cigarettes and handed her one.
"What exactly happened?" she asked.
"God, I feel so guilty," Mikey said as he stared out the tiny window. "He was at my house and we had a fight over something stupid, I can't even remember what it was now, but anyway, I offended him and he got upset so he said he was leaving. The next thing I know, I got the cops at my door telling me his car's smashed through a fence and into the woodland on the other side. I guess I got him so wound up he just didn't pay attention...I feel so bad," he trailed off, feeling tears pricking his eyes once more.
"Don't blame yourself for one second, Honey," his mother smiled. "Let's go back in." Mikey took one last drag of his cigarette then stubbed it out and re-entered the room, followed by his mother. They hadn't been in there two minutes when that smug asshole doctor came back in.
"I'm afraid it's time to say goodnight now," he said in a fakely sympathised voice.
