Chapter Text
Gerard sat slumped against the chairs of a deserted tube. the dim fluorescent lights above casting a sickly yellow glow over the grimy interior. The adrenaline was wearing off , and he was starting to feel the presence of the stab wound in his abdomen- sharp and persistent.
He sighed and checked his phone- he was a good 20 minutes from Pinhole Books. He wondered dully if he would survive that long.
He looked out the window opposite him, and while the blurred walls of the underground passed by, he thought of the close encounter he had had earlier that night.
There was almost nothing that could get the jump on him, not even Hunt avatars, but this slaughter avatar had snuck up behind him anyways.
He sensed it and turned around, and was met with a sharp knife to his abdomen. He cried out and fell backward onto the damp pavement of the alleyway. His breathing went haggard and his mind began to race as he waited for the next blow. It never came. The avatar just… left.
Now, here he was: dazed, bleeding, and lucky to have made it onto the right train at all. The familiar hum of the tube was almost hypnotic, but a prickle at the back of his neck brought him back to the present.
There was another man in the car. He was tall, blonde, and staring straight at Gerard.
He tugged his leather coat tighter around his chest, hoping to conceal the wound. He mustn’t show his weakness, especially not to this silent stranger.
The train lurched, slowing as it neared Morden Station. The screech of brakes filled the car, setting his teeth on edge. He hauled himself to his feet, unsteady, and felt the stranger’s gaze follow him.
He strode to get off the train but a wave of dizziness overtook him and he went to grab the handrail and missed unceremoniously, causing him to fall, hard, on his injured side.
He cursed loudly and attempted to haul himself up, but the doors closed as he did so. This warranted a slew of cursing.
He looked over at the man, who was still staring at him. “What do you want?” He snapped, his voice hoarse.
“You’re um-“ the man stammered.
“You’re bleeding.”
Gerard scoffed and slumped back into the hard vinyl seat. “I noticed, thanks.”
Deciding the stranger was harmless enough—or too stupid to pose a threat—Gerard pulled his blood-stained tee away from his stomach for the first time. He sucked in air through his teeth as the fabric peeled away from the wound, sticky with dried blood.
It was deep, but he was fairly confident that the avatar missed his major organs. Hopefully.
The stranger made a noise, a small sound of alarm. “You should… you should go to A&E,” he whispered.
Gerard ignored him and pressed against the wound with the palm of his hand, trying in vain to slow the sluggish bleed. He wasn’t going to any hospital; not if he could help it.
He would have to walk home now from wherever this train dumped him.
“Got a cigarette?” He asked, half-hopeful.
The man sputtered and shook his head and Gerard sighed inwardly. Of course not.
This would be a long and dreadful walk home.
He didn’t know exactly when he passed out, but he felt the sharp pain of his head hitting the seat next to him, but he was too tired to get up. He closed his eyes and let the darkness take away the pain in his side, if only for a little while.
He awoke again to sweaty hands shaking him desperately. A shaky voice called out to him “Please wake up please please don’t be dead!” He tried to swat the stranger away but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, he simply slipped back into the dreamless sleep.
He fully woke up and was greeting with an unfamiliar bright light in his face, along with scratchy sheets and a sharp disinfectant smell.
His head felt heavy, and a dull ache throbbed in his abdomen. It took a moment for him to piece things together. He was in a hospital. Someone had called an ambulance for him. He felt sick at the prospect. A fresh wave of nausea hit as he stared at the IV taped to the crook of his arm, the clear liquid dripping steadily into his veins.
Then the panic set in.
Mary.
Terror clawed its way up his throat as he realized he hadn’t gone home to her that night. He bolted upright, ignoring the sharp pull of stitches in his side. His eyes darted around the room, and that’s when he saw her.
Mary stood, her movements deliberate, and the corners of her mouth twisted into something like a smirk. Gerard’s heart raced, panic flooding his veins.
“Mum, someone called an ambulance I didn’t-“ The slap came hard and fast, cutting him off mid-sentence. The sharp crack of it echoed in the small room.
He blinked back shocked tears and raised a hand up to his face.
It reverberated through the room and one of the nurses outside turned her head to look in.
“I had to leave an important meeting to come and fetch you.” she said, her voice cold, measured.
“I didn’t mean to-“ She slapped him again harder.
“Don’t talk back to me, boy. You didn’t even fetch the Leitner. A pity, really.” Her tone held no trace of empathy
“It won’t happen again.” Gerard mumbled, his voice barely audible.
“Damn right it won’t. Up.”
Mary strode to the hospital bed and yanked the blankets off him with one sharp motion. The sudden chill made him shiver.
“Ma’am I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside if you won’t leave him alone.” She stood clutching her clipboard like a shield.
Mary simply waved her hand. “This doesn’t concern you.”
The nurse faltered, her grip on the clipboard tightening. After a long, uncomfortable pause, she retreated, muttering something about getting the doctor.
Not worth it then.
Gerard grit his teeth and tipped the IV out from the crook of his arm. It tore the delicate flesh there and blood started dripping down his arm and onto his hand as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“I- Don’t know where my clothes are.” He admitted.
“Don’t worry, i’ve brought you some.” She reached into a plastic bag and handed him a small bundle of neatly folded clothing.
He took them without a word, his hand trembling slightly.
The bathroom was cramped, the overhead light flickering faintly as he locked the door behind him. He caught his reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink. The red mark on his cheek was already darkening, and he could feel the beginnings of a bruise blooming beneath the skin.
His eyes lingered on the bandages wrapped tightly around his abdomen. They itched, and every movement sent a sharp jolt of pain through his side. He peeled his blood-stained hospital gown off and pulled on the too-small t-shirt Mary had brought him.
The fabric stretched uncomfortably over his shoulders and clung to the bandages, but he didn’t complain. He slipped on the jeans—those, at least, fit well enough—and took a moment to wipe the blood from his arm with a paper towel.
When he stepped out, Mary was waiting for him.
“Now. You’re going to find the Leitner for me, aren’t you?”
Gerrad managed a small “Yes Mum.” before he turned and walked out.
As he stepped into the corridor, the doctor rushed after him, his white coat flapping like the wings of an anxious bird.
“Mr. Keay, you’ve not been discharged!” he called, exasperation thick in his voice.
He missed his leather jacket, but hospitals usually cut clothes off of injured patients.
He cursed at the mystery man who called him an ambulance.
He was on his way out of the door when someone grabbed his shoulder. Gerard whipped around and bit back his retort when he recognized the man from the underground.
“You-“ His eyes narrowed as he shook the hand from his shoulder.
“You uh passed out on the train.” The stranger grinned sheepishly. “Oh! Here I have your jacket.” He handed him the wadded up leather coat he had been carrying.
“Thank you- uhm.” He paused realizing he didn’t know the man’s name.
“It’s Micheal.” He pushed his glasses back onto his face.
“Gerard.” He rocked back on his feet, not making eye contact.
Just then the doctor burst into the waiting room. “Mr. Keay you have not been discharged!” He exasperated.
“Shit. Uh good meeting you Micheal.” He pulled his coat on and left the hospital, ignoring the doctor once more.
He shuddered against the cold morning air and took in his surroundings. He looked across the thames at Big Ben and scoffed. He was in Kensington of all places. He popped his sore neck and started walking downtown.
He figured he could find something to appease Mary in an antique store or charity shop. He could feel lingering stares of workers on their commutes and tourists as he passed and tried his best to ignore them.
When the press of the crowd became too much he ducked into the nearest convenience store and pocketed a bag of crisps and went up to the cashier. “Marlboro please.” He dragged a few spare bills from his pocket and placed them on the counter.
He lit up just outside the shop and took a few long drags of the cheap cigarette before continuing to walk.
He checked every antique store he could, but he found no leitner or any leads on one.
It was nearing dark now and the pain in his shade had become practically unbearable.
His wandering brought him to the entrance to the Kensington Station and he decided to just grab the tube back to Morden. They seemed a lot less likely to report vagrants there anyways.
The train was packed full of people getting off of work and he fought for his own space as he stood clutching the handrail. He felt a pang of hunger as he remembered the bag of crisps in the deep pocket of his coat. He hadn’t eaten all day.
A shorter woman was pushing past him on the car and her elbow caught him right in the abdomen where he had been stabbed. He cried out in pain and cursed under his breath.
She turned around and started furiously apologizing.
Gerard just shook his hand and said that he was fine and that it was an accident.
He felt exhausted and didn’t exactly know where he was going to sleep the night.
Gerard ran away for the first time when he was 13. It was Christmas eve and he decided he was going to enjoy himself in the most touristy Christmas attraction he could find.
Mary wasn’t at home- she usually wasn’t during the day, and he just left.
He’d stayed out all night exploring central london and observing happy families with obvious jealousy.
And then, inevitably, reality had set in. By morning, he’d been hungry, frozen to the bone, and too scared to figure out what came next. Mary had found him before he even tried. She’d dragged him home by the arm, berating him for wasting her time and calling him “a worthless little distraction” while he tried to keep up on numb feet. The only gift he’d gotten that year was the bruise on his shoulder where she’d grabbed him.
Gerard pulled his coat tighter as the train rattled on, each jolt sending a fresh pulse of pain through his side.
The train screeched to a halt, jarring him out of the past. He gritted his teeth and looked up, realizing he’d arrived at Morden. This was the end of the line.
He briefly considered trying to find some abandoned corner of the station to sleep in but dismissed the thought almost immediately. Too exposed. Too vulnerable.
Gerard headed into the streets instead, the sharp ache in his side slowing him down as he searched for somewhere—anywhere—that could serve as shelter. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to sleep rough, and it wouldn’t be the last.
He found a laundromat a good mile away from Pinhole Books that had been long closed. Thick wooden boards covered the windows and doors, but there were a couple loose ones and Gerard was skinny enough to be able to slip between a loose board and get inside.
The dust inside made him instinctively cough as he ducked behind a row of washing machines. It was less dusty away from the windows and his eyes became heavy from the long distances walked.
From his pocket, he fished out the bag of crisps he’d stolen earlier. He tore it open and ate mechanically, barely tasting the stale saltiness. Hunger was hunger.
The night drew on and the sound of cars passing became less regular and the faint murmur of Morden faded into the background and Gerard curled up on the cold linoleum floor.
He closed his eyes and let a deep sleep fall over him.