Hold Me Down (Peterick) ➳ Book 3

Seventeen

"Pete just wants us to leave him?" Frank asked as he turned his attention away from the moonless night.

"I guess," Gerard replied with a shrug.

"But why?"

The message Pete had sent a few minutes ago was extremely vague, focusing on the urgency of speaking face to face rather that why. Neither of them doubted the severity of the situation, but they were also cautious. They had reason to believe the server had been hacked, Pete had hinted that much. So Patrick's safety was a main concern, but was Pete trusting that Patrick wasn't going to be collateral in this? If so, he was an idiot.

"I don't know."

The two sat in silence for a while until Gerard stood up.

"Coming?"

Frank looked up at him as if he was crazy. "We can't leave him. Even if it's what Pete wants."

"We have to."

"Do you ever stop to think for yourself?"

"Do you?"

"More and more."

And Gerard knew what he meant.

Now that Ryan was gone and the lab was destroyed, the Killjoys had become more human with the added perks. At least thinking wise they were. They were more autonomic, and Frank seemed to be more in tune with his humanity than Gerard was.

"We have to," Gerard pressed.

"We don't. I'm sure Pete will understand."

"Not if he's dead!"

Frank blinked. "Dead?"

"No, no, no."

"Gee, what aren't you telling me?"

"I promised I wouldn't," Gerard whimpered. "He'll kill me."

"Tell me!"

In a hushed whisper Gerard told Frank everything. The destroyed lab, The Hurricane's turning, the dangerous breach in the servers. It was bad, that much Frank had assumed; however, it was going to get worse. Fast.

"Here's what we do. We wait, and we talk to Patrick in the morning. Okay?"

"But what about The Hurricane?"

"She's on a rampage, and she's going to leave an obvious path. We observe, and when the time comes we do what Ryan taught us," Frank said in a soothing voice.

Gerard had climbed back into bed and listed to Frank as he continued to talk about nothing in particular. The two didn't need to sleep, but when Frank encouraged Gerard to power down for a few hours he didn't protest.

*

The last woman left the exam room and Doctor Ramsay sunk into the nearest chair. Billie Joe and the rest of them were slowly building up an army that could reach unstoppable proportions if something wasn't done about it, and at this point Doctor Ramsay was wondering if anything could be done about it.

He hadn't been a willing part of the "upgrading process" as it was oddly nicknamed, but one stern reminder that he owed them his life was enough to get him to comply. He was just thankful Patrick and that other baby Milo had escaped. That was something else Billie Joe hadn't been pleased about.

Doctor Ramsay had contemplated on leaving, trying to make it on his own. He even had two bags stuffed to the brim of anything he could think he may need if he were to. They were tucked under his bed, waiting to be retrieved.

The medic wing was empty, save for him. Since the explosion Billie Joe had set off, no one had needed any real medical attention. Doctor Ramsay was only giving the injections because he felt the need to do something, anything, to keep his mind from wandering.

He knew everyone would be making their way to the dinning hall, and by the time he was in his room they'd be deep in conversation. No one would notice he wasn't there, and the wing he lived on was one of the few without cameras.

"Fuck it."

Back in his room, Doctor Ramsay changed from his usual attire of scrubs to something more practical and approachable. He gathered his two bags and without a second though he was out the window.

By the time anyone noticed his absence he was long gone.

*

A loud bang wrenched Patrick out of his dream, leaving him disoriented.

"This is the city police open up."

In a daze, Patrick stumbled to his feet, pulling the door open without a second thought.

The two men didn't look like police officers; however, the aura they carried with them was authoritative enough.

"There's been some funny activity going on in this part of town. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"

"Not at all," Patrick replied, stifling a yawn.

He tiredly lead them to his tiny dinning room and offered them some coffee.

The officers declined, and proceeded to grill Patrick with odd questions while he sipped his way through a cup of hot chocolate.

Nothing really stood out until one of the officers produced a blurry yet recognisable photo of Gerard and Frank. Patrick could only assume it had been taken inside of their apartment, but Gerard and Frank kept to themselves. So who would've taken a photo like that?

A flash of blue hair danced across Patrick's vision, and he tried to hold onto it. He knew that hair.

"Sir?"

Patrick shook his head.

"I didn't really talk to them. I invited them over a few times to be friendly, but they didn't delve into their personal lives much. I don't think they liked me much."

And Patrick carefully watched the exchange the two officers seemed to do with their eyes. Whether they believed him or not was something he'd never know, but Patrick had a special talent of convincing people. Perhaps it was his innocent demeanour or his trusting voice.

The officers left shortly after, but Patrick didn't act like most would. He spent a good portion of the day doing what he usually did, and around lunch time he made his way up to room 93 in hopes of finding Frank and Gerard.

No one answered when he knocked, but the door was unlocked when Patrick entered.

"Frank?" He called. "Gerard?"

A cruel laugh echoed through the dark room. Patrick stepped back, but the door slammed shut.