43 Years of Frankenstein {Frerard}

2 • But Before You Start Pointing Fingers, Make Sure Your Hands Are Clean

1962, St. Michael's Hospital; Belleville

"Where is it?"

"Where is what Dr.?"

"You know what?"

"Dr. I swear I don't know w-"

"Bullshit! Don't lie to me Lindsey! You stop hiding my alcohol and focus on your own problems!"

"I have no problems Way!" She spat

"Really now? Then I think its best you go back home just to make sure that your 'sick' boyfriend isn't sleeping around. And call me doctor Way or you will face my wrath! Or let your abusive boyfriend do the job for me" he smirked mischievously.

Slap

"You madman! You wouldn't know love if it was staring you in the face! You are a sick man! A sick fucking man!" her eyes turning red and puffy, the lump obvious in her throat. She stormed away past the long queues waiting for their injections.

"So is your boyfriend" he whispered to himself as he adjusted his jaw. He chuckled to himself as he entered one of the checkup rooms.

"Iero?" a different nurse stuttered out, hurrying towards the front of the queue still startled by all the fuss those two had caused. "Frank Iero?"

Frank stayed silent, still taking every possible opportunity to skip this checkup.

"Fra-" she tried again

Ray a couple of spots back pointed at Frank.

"What the fuck, man?"

"Franklin Iero, either you step up and be a man, or I will be forced to drug you!" She looked completely fed up with her job and all the drama that has happened in the last fifteen minutes wasn't helping her saggy tits either.

The nurse took him by the arm and practically dragged him across the corridor. As they made their way down Frank started to realize how much he didn't want to be there. Hospitals are always too fucking cold and they all smell weird. With old people, children, parents and lovers dying. The sobs, moans, and wails weren't helping with the mood either. Frank was pretty sure the tools they use weren't even sanitised. He was also pretty fucking sure that he didn't have this Armageddon virus shit.

The nurse eventually threw Frank in their with her ninja grip and shut the door straight after.

' Room 237'

Frank was assigned to the same room the dickwad doctor had stormed into.

"Take a seat on the hospital bed please." he was looking through some drawers.

He had greasy jet black hair that he brushed his hand over ever three to five seconds. Oh, there he goes again.

As Frank had suspected, it was cold. He sat on the hospital bed and looked around, analyzing the room.

There was a signature and name on a clip-board to his right that Frank read aloud,
''Chemist, Dr. Gerard Arthur Way''.

"That's the name, don't wear it out"

After a few moments of silence Frank made a clicking noise with his tongue on his teeth "If you're a chemist, then why are you doing this?"

"Does it bother you, because I assure you, I have enough experience to do this, and the only good doctor in the country wasn't 'available' today so here I am and there you are. There's no turning back now." he spat out, sarcasm dripping from his words.

They sat in silence for what seemed like ages.

"Can I skip this?" Frank whined pointlessly.

"Mm..no", the doctor spoke quietly obviously uninterested with Frank's mere suggestion, and still uninterested enough to look at the person he is going to jam a god damn needle into!