At first, the problem was getting Frank to shut up. Now, it was actually getting him to speak that was the pain in the ass.

"So how do you know where we're going?" Shrug. "Do you actually know where we're going?" Shrug. "Have you somehow lost the ability to speak?" Shrug.

"Fucking hell, Frank, I swear if you shrug once more I'll -"

"You'll what, princess?" His eye narrowed, dark and challenging.

Gerard paused, stumped. "I - um - I'm not sure."

"Exactly. So shut the fuck up."

"But I'm bored! And we've been walking for hours! And you're not saying anything!"

"Okay, fine." Frank linked arms with Gerard, giving him a nudge to the ribs for his trouble. "We are going to need a map, and we are going to have to find a store to get a map, and then I'll be able to tell you where we're going."

"Yes, but where exactly are we going?" Gerard persisted, receiving another nudge.

"Well he said he was going to New Jersey, so there, I guess."

Gerard came to an abrupt stop, making Frank trip slightly. "New Jersey?"

"Yeah..." The younger's eye narrowed. "Why?"

"Nothing, I just..." He bit his lower lip. "I was born there, is all. I - I should've known that would be where he'd go." If he was alive in the first place.

Frank was silent for a few seconds, and then gently tugged Gerard along with him. "C'mon. Let's go find him."

~

The store stank, and there were flies absolutely fucking everywhere, and even though the shelves were upright and immaculate, there were bloody handprints on the walls and various items.

The only sounds were the crunching of glass beneath their boots and their heavy breathing. But no sooner had they rounded the corner of the first aisle when the door to the back room was thrown open, and someone stepped out.

There was a man with wild curly hair and a gun, and he was holding a wound in his side. He pointed the gun straight at Frank and Gerard, and the latter responded by pointing his own gun at the stranger.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The curly-haired stranger spoke slowly, as if he was threatening them rather than if he was in pain. He was both.

"Put yours down then." Gerard replied, equally as slowly. He could feel his heartbeat thundering in his ears, and he tried not to let just how scared he was show.

The stranger scoffed. "As if I haven't heard that one before." He winced, clutching his side harder. "Put the damn gun down."

"What, so you can shoot me?"

There was a tense silence as they both stood, guns pointed at each other, as Frank stood beside Gerard, his hand poised near the handle of his knife.

The stranger then rolled his eyes, slamming the gun onto the filthy counter in front of him. "Fine!"

Gerard hesitated for a few seconds, before slowly lowering his gun and slipping it back in the waistband of his jeans.

"That was the worst Mexican standoff I've ever seen." Frank said.

Gerard ignored him. "Who are you?"

"I could ask you two the same question."

"I'm...Gerard. Gerard Way." Gerard looked at Frank, who sighed.

"Frank Iero." He muttered, and the stranger's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Ray Toro. And you're supposed to be dead."

Gerard's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Huh?"

The shortest of the three scowled and rolled his eye. "Lindsey?"

Ray nodded. "Lindsey."

"Who's Lindsey?" Gerard asked, but it was his turn to be ignored as Ray continued, the gun back in his hand and pointed straight at Frank.

"Listen, Iero, you want to get outta here. You want to get as far away from here as you can, because if Lindsey finds you -"

"Yeah, yeah, I've got it." Frank waved a dismissive hand. "Where is she, anyway?"

"I don't know." Came the reply, but it obvious he was lying, so Frank nodded at Ray's side.

"Might wanna get that looked at."

The curly-haired man winced. "It's fine. Nothing I can't handle."

"I might be able to fix it for you."

Ray scoffed. "You have the mentality of a ten-year-old; you can't fix shit."

"I don't know what you've heard about me, but if it's come from Lindsey, it probably isn't true."

Gerard, meanwhile, had wandered off in search of a map, while listening to the conversation taking place. He was confused; did they know each other? If not, how did Ray know so much about Frank? Who was this Lindsey? What had she done to Frank?

"Tell me where she is, and I'll do something about your side." Silence. "C'mon, Ray, it looks pretty nasty."

"It's fine." Ray's teeth were gritted, but he couldn't deny the pain he was in. There was a few seconds' silence, and then Ray sighed. "Fine."

Gerard didn't particularly want to witness this, so he stayed hidden between the shelves while Ray led Frank into the back room. Frank made Ray lie on the dusty floor while he opened his bag, pretending to look for what he needed. He didn't really have that much, only a few band aids and wipes, and a needle and thread for messy stitching. He took some of all four from his bag, kneeling beside Ray and lifting his shirt.

There was a nasty slash in his side, not too wide but relatively deep, and about four inches long. It was still oozing blood, rather dangerously so, and Frank ripped off part of Ray's shirt to press against the wound. The elder's eyes screwed shut and he groaned in pain, thrashing his legs as Frank pressed harder.

"Where is Lindsey?" He hissed, kneeling on Ray's legs.

"Ow - ow - AH! Fuck!"

"Tell me where she is!" Frank pressed harder, earning a near-scream in response.

"You said - you -"

"Tell me where she is, and then I'll help you. That was the deal."

Gerard's head rose at the sound of the screams, and he winced, turning away. He was reading the label on some random tin, trying his best to distract himself. He didn't even want to imagine what was going on in there.

Then all of a sudden it fell silent, and Gerard found himself frowning. He put down the tin he was holding, slowly and carefully making his way over to the door that led to the room in which Frank and Ray were. He reached out to touch the door handle, but before he could do so, it swung open, revealing Frank, who was wiping his bloody hands on his jeans.

"He passed out." Frank said, all too nonchalantly for Gerard's liking. He headed towards the front door, causing Gerard's eyes to narrow.

"Where are you going?" He asked, and Frank shrugged.

"He told me what I needed to know; I think that's my cue to leave."

"What?! You can't just leave him! What if he -"

"He's going to be fine."

"Have you even bothered helping him like you said you would?"

Frank's eyebrow rose. "What do you care? He was going to kill you, and he just as easily could've done so."

"Yeah - but -" he gestured uselessly towards the door, his big eyes staring right at Frank. "C'mon, Frank. You can't do that. That would make you just as bad as - as Lindsey."

He didn't know who this Lindsey was, nor did he know anything about her, but it seemed to do the trick; Frank heaved a sigh and went back to where Ray was, leaving Gerard stood behind the counter.

Frank grumbled obscenities under his breath as he stitched up Ray's side, making sure it was bandaged and clean and all that shit. He gave the skin around the wound one last prod and then got to his feet, brushing himself off just as Ray's eyes opened. He gasped, his hands going straight to his side as his face screwed up in pain.

"Thank you." Frank said, and Ray responded by flipping him off, looking down at the wound.

"A fucking toddler could've done better." He snapped, sitting up and wiping sweat from his brow. "I mean come on, look at that."

"Fuck off, I could've just left you to bleed out."

"You should've done, Jesus Christ..."

He held up his knife. "I could open it up again, if you want?"

Ray shook his head, his lips set in a thin line. "I'd rather you didn't, if I'm honest."

"Shame. It looks quite fun."

"From your side, yeah."

Frank just shrugged, turning towards the door. "Can I go yet? Only Gerard's on his own out there and he's probably been caught by zombies already; he's not all that strong, see."

"I heard that!" Gerard called from the other side of the door. He was strong, maybe not physically, but he was strong when it mattered.

"Good." He turned back to Ray. "So?"

"Why are you asking me? I've told you what you wanted to know. She's headed towards New Jersey. Go there and you'll find her. Though that isn't exactly wise, seeing as you're supposed to be dead."

"Yeah, yeah." Frank waved a dismissive hand. He seemed to be doing that a lot. "Don't worry about me."

"It's not you I'm worried about."

The younger paused, frowned. "Well that's not very nice, is it? Even after all I did -"

"Your sewing is awful."

"Oh whatever! We're leaving. Maybe we'll see you soon, maybe we won't." He left the room. "Gee, did you find a map?"

"Yeah, I -"

"Wait!" They both looked around to see Ray emerging from the back room. "Let me come with you."

"You were just insulting my doctoring." Frank replied, folding his arms.

"Gerard." Ray was begging now, breathing heavily, and still clutching his side. "Please. You two are the closest thing to civilisation I've seen in months."

"Gee, thanks." Frank muttered, earning a slap upside the head from Gerard.

"I guess we could use another person..."

"No offense, but you're not exactly useful." Ray and Gerard glared. "What?"

"Yes, you can join us." Gerard said. "Feel free to stab Frank whenever you like."

"Not helpful." Frank said, as Ray laughed.

"Thanks so much. Oh, and I will. Trust me, I will."

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