Disenchanted (Frerard + Petekey)

Interlude

"This place fucking sucks." Gerard spoke to the empty room, his voice echoing softly back to him.
He was sitting with his back up against the wall, staring unblinking at the tiny flashing light of the security camera.

On, off, on, off.

He felt like he was genuinely going crazy. It had been hours now, maybe days? Left alone in the tiny grey room. It wasn't as bright or shiny as his regular room, and he did have his own bathroom attached to it, but that also had a camera, and he hadn't been able to see Frank or anyone else that mattered since that night.

He knew it was stupid. It was his own fault he'd ended up under 24 hour watch in solitary. He'd been careless, and the voices wouldn't let him forget that. He hadn't thought the plan through.

When he'd been dropped back into control of his body, with two of the fingers on his right hand shattered, he quickly realized whatever escape plan he'd been working on was shot. He knew he had to adapt to whatever was coming next, and though it had landed him in his current situation, he was still grateful for his quick thinking at hiding the tiny mirror shards throughout his clothes.

The nurse who'd taken him to the infirmary hadn't checked his pockets before doing so, something Vic always did before and after he took Gerard anywhere. He figured the man must be new given how he was scampering around in a panic about the broken hand. On top of that, everyone else was convinced he'd been attacked by Frank and kept trying to put words into his mouth, treating him like a child who didn't understand what had happened.

"How did you break you hand honey?"

"You can tell us the truth, we won't tell anybody else."

"You won't get in trouble. Neither will Frank."

"Were you horsing around? Play-fighting?"

He'd had enough of their condescending questions, and vowed to just keep his mouth shut. They could think whatever they wanted about Frank's involvement, he just wanted to get away from them and all the prying, pitying eyes.

With a sigh he flopped length-wise onto the bed, his arms dangling over his head off the foot of the bed. The stretch sent a variety of popping prickles across his skin, he couldn't help the ghost of a smile that appeared at the memory.

Once the hospital staff had allowed him to return to his room, he'd made a beeline for it. He'd made a backup plan and he intended to go through with it. If he couldn't escape the place physically, he'd find another way.

He couldn't help his mind wandering to Frank as he made his way through the now familiar halls, was he okay? Had he been blamed for Gerard's stupidity? Was he mad?

No.
I can't think about Frank right now, I've got things to do. He'll be okay.
...
...maybe...
Maybe this'll help him too...

As he slipped back into his empty room he'd wedged the chair they'd secretly borrowed under the doorknob.
It wasn't as good as a lock, but it would give him some warning and hopefully some time.

Okay, okay, breathe.
You know how this works...

He couldn't recall anymore whether he'd sat down in the chair or just on the floor next to it, but he remembered the voices.

They'd been screaming.
Louder than he'd ever heard.
Lancing him with insults as the reality of the situation set in.

He'd told Dr. Rosenberg about the voices.
She knew.
And that meant pretty soon everyone would know, if they didn't already.
His mother would know.
Mikey would know.