When he came to, he was tied to a table, and stripped of everything but his underwear. His head swam and everything was muzzy somehow, and when he tried to say Gerard's name it came out as a slur.
He turned his head, tried to; he hurt, it hurt to move but he needed to find Gerard. He needed to keep his eyes open.
Time passed. Frank swam in and out; saw a figure moving nearby, felt hands on his skin. He thought he heard Gerard's voice, once, saying his name.
When he forced his eyes to open again, his head pounded and he was almost glad that the room they were in was so dark. It was dark in a way that felt like they were underground, but not so dark Frank couldn't make out the weird symbols painted over the walls in huge strokes of red and black.
There were low candles burning on a small table in the corner, their guttering flames casting weak licks of light over a picture of what looked like the Virgin Mary, only - wrong, in some horrible way Frank couldn't define, and more pictures stuck up on the walls, icons and portraits; some Frank recognized, some he'd never seen before.
And on the wall behind him, when he craned his head back and rolled his eyes up in his head, was a giant crucifix with something scrawled on the center point of the cross beam - Frank squinted and read upside down as best as he could, but he didn't think it was English.
He turned his head to the side, instead, gritting his teeth against the way it made his brain swim inside his skull. Gerard was slumped in a chair, right next to Frank. His arms twisted awkwardly around the back, out of sight, but his head was slumping forward, chin resting on Frank's arm, so Frank couldn't see his face.
"Gerard," Frank mumbled, pulling weakly at his bonds. "Gerard, wake up."
Gerard didn't move. He was breathing, Frank could feel it against his arm, but he didn't even twitch when Frank said his name again.
Frank really didn't want to start yelling - God knew where Luke was, he could be back any second, but he needed Gerard to wake up, they needed to get the fuck out of there. He jiggled his arm as much as he could and hissed Gerard's name again, and eventually Gerard stirred and muttered and looked up blearily at Frank, blinking bloodshot eyes behind the tangle of his hair.
"Frank?" he said thickly. He swallowed audibly and sat up, wincing and rolling his head on his shoulders. "What happened? Where are we?"
"I don't know, Luke's place I guess. You don't remember him coming to the apartment?"
Gerard closed his eyes for a second, visibly working to stay focused. "Um, yeah, yeah, I think so. Fuck - what the fuck was that, chloroform?"
Frank shook his head. "I don't know. I feel like I lost a fight with an anesthesiologist, though."
"Me too," Gerard groaned and blinked his eyes open, looking around the room and then back at Frank. "You're - why did he take your clothes off?"
"I really don't want to think about it," Frank said fervently. "Look, can you get your hands free and untie me?"
Gerard tugged a few times, but his wrists stayed put behind his back. He shook his head. "They're tied pretty tight. Wait," he started shuffling his feet on the floor, eventually turning the chair around and pulling away enough that Frank could see his wrists. "What are they, cuffs?"
"Rope," Frank said. "It's pretty thin, too. Can you like, I don't know, is there something sharp lying around?"
"Let me - fuck, I'm tied to the fucking chair." Gerard tipped forward slightly and stood up as much as he could with a chair tied to his thighs. He hobbled around like a cross between a crab and an old man, banging into the walls with the chair legs and swearing every fifteen seconds. Then he paused suddenly, hovering over a low table on the other side of the room. "Uh."
