Frank Iero Must Die {Frerard}

29

We had settled down at the table to eat some hastily prepared pasta when Patrick's watch made a small beeping noise. He had a security system that sent alerts to his watch when anyone entered the building. Overkill, yes, but he always monitored it for our safety.

Patrick glanced down at it, eyes widening in shock as he stood up abruptly, "We have to go. They found us."

Fuck. We all leapt up, sprinting out the door and down the hall, "They'll take the stairs!" I yelled at everyone, heading for the elevator as we rounded the corner. As we neared it, I heard guns going off behind us, and the screams of other tenants. We kept low, and I refused to look back as we sprinted through the open elevator door. Still crouching, I jabbed at the Door Close button until the door closed.

As the elevator starter moving, I glanced around, and my eyes widened. People had been injured.

Patrick was clutching his leg, whimpering in pain as it bled, and that wasn't even the worst of it. Frank had his arms crossed over his chest, but it was plain that was seeping between the creamy, tattoed skin or his arms was blood.

"Fuck." I muttered, my heart speeding up as blood roared in my ears. This couldn't be happening. I moved to where he knelt on the carpeted floor and gathering him in my arms. Frank gasped in pain but I ignored it, bringing my shirt over my head and pressing it to the wound to stop the flow of blood.

"Cover me." I told everyone as they drew their guns. I picked up Frank as Pete picked up Patrick, with Lyn-Z, Jimmy, Mikey and Ray guarding us. If they had people waiting, we likely wouldn't survive.

The elevator doors opened, revealing that they'd been stupid enough to not leave anyone to waiting in the lobby. All the better. We ran out the door to where the van was kept in the parking lot, with it's new license on it.

"I'll drive!" Lyn-Z yelled as Jimmy took shotgun, so I tossed her the keys and got in to the back with everyone else. Patrick had Pete's shirt wrapped securely around his leg, and his breathing had evened out. I could tell he would make a full recovery, seeing as the bullet had missed the bones and major muscles of his lower leg.

Frank was another story altogether.

I helped him to lie down on the cold metal surface, but he wouldn't stay still. His eyes were flickering open and shut and he kept groaning in pain. I was thankful that there was no blood coming up out of his mouth, which meant that the bullet likely hadn't punctured a lung. If we were lucky, it had glanced off a rib. No matter where it had lodged, we had to remove the bullet. However, the blood from the wound was soaking my white shirt right through. There was so much of it.

"Mikey?" I asked, "First aid kit?"

The van had the ultimate first-aid kit, fitted out with the equipment needed to treat just about anything. I liked to be prepared, and we couldn't afford to lose anyone at this point. Mikey passed me tweezers, gauze, and some kind of balm that helped keep major injuries from becoming infected.

Taking the tweezers, I inhaled deeply and removed my now-red shirt from Frank's stomach. He still hadn't spoken behind gasps of pain, and now I could see why. The bullet had well and truly torn a whole in him. The bleeding was heavy, but it didn't look to be a lung puncture. He couldn't die. I needed him. I loved him.

"Gee, do you want me to do it?" Mikey offered quietly, solemnly, "Your hands are shaking."

He was right, they were. I was nervous, my boyfriend's life was completely in my hands, and I wasn't sure I could save him. I had training, sure, and I'd done it before. It was different because I loved him.

I forced myself to calm down, making myself stop shaking, before shaking my head. I had to do this myself. I would never forgive whoever treated him if he died afterwards. Granted, I would never forgive myself if he died at my hand, but it was better than hating Mikey or even someone else. Frank needed me, I had to save him.

Tweezers in hand, I slowly reached them past the hole in his torso. I was careful not to touch the skin, the tweezers were sterilized but one could never be too careful. Frank screamed in pain as I nudged around for the bullet, eventually encountering it near the surface. He was lucky; it had glanced off the rib.

The chances of him surviving had just gone up by a lot, and it gave me the confidence I needed to continue. Frank needs me, I told myself, He needs me.

Getting a firm grip on the blood-slick bullet was a struggle, but I eventually managed it. With some difficulty, I manouvered it out of his body, doing my best to ignore his screams. "Mikey, give him something for the pain."

I could only assume Mikey had obeyed as Frank went limp, probably from the medication or the pain. I lathered the ointment on to a bandage, mopping up the blood with a sterile pad before applying the bandage.

Sighing deeply, I sat back on my heels and shut my eyes, rubbing my temples to ward off an approaching headache. There was nothing more I could do but keep checking his vital and signs and bandages. And I could hope. I could hope he would live.

♋

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