Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4246155.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      My_Chemical_Romance, Bandom
  Relationship:
      Frank_Iero/Gerard_Way, Frank_Iero/Jamia_Nestor
  Character:
      Gerard_Way, Mikey_Way, Frank_Iero, Pete_Wentz, Patrick_Stump
  Additional Tags:
      Sexual_Slavery, Damaged_people_getting_repaired, Therapy, Blow_Jobs,
      Anal, Stockholm_Syndrome, Messy_Feelings, Panic_Attacks, Post-Traumatic
      Stress_Disorder_-_PTSD, Therapist!_Frank, Dom/sub_Undertones, Dubious
      Ethics, Bare_with_me_i, Am_a_little_nervous_about_this, Dysfunctional
      Family, Abuse, Past_Abuse, child_emotional_abuse, all_the_abuse, Sexual
      Abuse, cute_sleepovers
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-07-01 Updated: 2016-06-03 Chapters: 5/? Words: 8265
****** Lost Caves ******
by trashanonymous
Summary
     Gerard's place of solitude is replaced with a dark, musty basement
     forced to follow his captors demands.
     Frank, a therapist, finds himself in charge of intergrating Gerard
     back into a world he's uneasy about rejoining.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** How can thoughts have a prologue *****
Most vivid of his memories of his hometown were those of the cave. He was sure
it was on private property despite being hidden amongst columns of trees in the
forest not far from his home. It was his escape, even now that he didn't have
the freedom to reach it. The thought made him grimace. His home had become the
basement of a man he only knew as Master. The cave, although damp and mossy
served as a place to hide, a place of safety. Master ruined the sanctuary of
his cave and placed him in one of his own creation.
"Gee, baby," the unexpected call startled him out of his dreams of damp, mossy
cave walls and was followed by thumps down the stairs.
Gerard quickly crawled into a kneeling position with his head bowed, the
perfect picture of submission. He always found himself conflicted on whether he
should fight back but his energy was gone and his master was kind when he
obeyed.
His master appeared, newspaper in hand. "They've given up on you, baby. It's
just you and me now." 
The newspaper fell into his lap, opened to the memorial pages.
He used his chained hands to bring the paper closer to his eyes and quickly
spots an old image of himself amongst columns of the dead. It declared him to
be a beloved son and cherished brother. There was no date of death. He glanced
up at the year written like a footnote at the bottom of the page. The article
had been published five years beyond what he knew of the real world. He had
been here five years. Tears smudged the ink on the page.
"Baby, don't cry. I'll never give up on you," his captor smirked. "Why don't we
go upstairs? Get you off this dirty floor."
Gerard's hands were freed but he was more trapped than ever. No one was even
looking for him. He was left for dead.
At least his master loved him. He was kept safe and warm in the house and he
was a cherished pet until it came to work days where he was locked in the
basement. Left chained in waiting. All he could do in this house was serve his
master and hope he would be trusted enough to no longer need these chains.
And Gerard knew what would happen once he was upstairs. He almost craved it.
 
“Gerard?” Frank called through a locked door, knocking on it slightly. “I know
you’re afraid, but I need you to come upstairs with me. You need to take your
pills and we need to talk about what set this panic attack off.”
The therapist sighed, clutching his client’s folder to his chest. This was
their fourth session together and the third time Gerard had locked himself in
his basement bedroom mid-session in fear. Frank struggled to work out what had
gone wrong, where his words had taken a wrong turn. Setbacks like this is one
of the many negatives of in-home therapy. The client has the ability to lock
themselves away or do essentially anything as it was their own terrain. Things
like this never happen in the office.
They had been speaking about self-care, well, Frank had been speaking of self-
care while Gerard sat across from him, head bowed. This was how the man often
sat, only looking up when spoken too. The initial psychiatric evaluation
suggested this could have been a trained habit from his captor, his automatic
response to another human’s presence; submission.
Frank’s role in this was to help him ease back into his old life, teaching him
how to cope with the trauma and anxiety as well as looking into education that
he had missed over six years of sexual abuse and slavery. He had spent most of
his days chained to a basement wall and only freed when his captor returned
from work and forced him into terrible things.
Gerard was lucky to have been found. People had stopped looking for the man. He
was found accidentally, after a neighbour had reported sounds of what she
believed to be a pained dog’s whimpers. He was found chained to a tree, gagged
and exposed to the cold weather.
It made sense that Gerard would run down to the basement when he was afraid.
The basement was the only space he had to himself in his last home, a point of
refuge, the only place where he could be alone. As something that was owned,
his release from captivity encouraged him to take back what was familiar, from
his life before and his life during. He grew up in a basement, surrounded by
comics and VCRs and was later held captive in one. Basements oozed familiarity,
more so than his own family. And the man on the other side of the door
demanding his presence.
Another point of familiarity; orders. There was a click as Gerard opened the
door, nose snotty and eyes red. Frank only got a flash of his face before his
head bowed.
“Thanks for coming out, Gerard. You ready to go back upstairs?”
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     um here you go. More personal life shit, and slavey sadness and
     hospitals and yeah
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Frank glanced down at the report file on his passenger seat nearly shuddering
at what he knew it contained. The horrors his patient had endured until he
believed they were normal, a lack of abuse meant kindness. He pulled out the
Way family's driveway. He had left the family with a reminder that they had his
contact details for office hours and the twenty-four-hour emergency line of his
company along with the hospital's Crisis Aversion Team. It was pointless to
wish they wouldn't need it.  His patient had miles to go, and his family could
only take care of him to an extent, they were as horrified as him at what had
happened to their eldest. Donna Way was almost always either red and puffy eyed
or in tears whenever Frank saw her; frightened of Gerard’s return to society
and the thought of losing her son again.The therapist resisted the urge to slam
his head against the steering wheel in the finest act of unprofessionalism.
This case was the biggest challenge of his career. It sickened Frank to think
someone was capable of taking a fifteen-year-old and spending years to train
the boy into dependency.
Frank scolded himself for his impatience on the drive back to his office. It
had only been six weeks since his patient’s freedom, two weeks since he
returned to his home; it was wrong to expect more progress than they had
already made. The man he had met in the mental health ward of the hospital
wouldn't have dared to attempt to lock himself away and hide other than to make
attempts on his life. He had been under the belief that every movement had to
be under the control of someone else. Even acts of defiance against those
trying to help him was progress worth noting as a success.
Gerard had barely even accepted the fact that his captor wasn't going to return
to him, let alone be physically able to see him again with the prison sentence
he had gained. He had gone as far to defend the man despite not even being
aware of his real name. He could list the reason for every injury his body had
obtained, always citing himself as the problem. Not the man who had kidnaped
him, the man he adored and refused to incriminate further. Recordings of these
initial interrogations with the police enclosed in the file and Frank was
dreading having to watch them himself the transcribed recordings were enough to
give him the creeps. The thought of watching Way sit with his head bowed,
speaking only when spoken to and replying only in defense of his “master” was
heartbreaking. It was challenging enough to watch it in real life when it had
slightly improved.
He only stopped struggling to cooperate when an officer carelessly mentioned
there had been others kept by the man. Their bodies were never found, but
traces of their presence in the form of fingerprints and blood. A space similar
to Gerard's basement was found in the attic with evidence to suggest another
young man had been trapped there. The officer had openly stated it was believed
to be a boy of 15, Brendon; that had gone missing a year prior, still yet to be
found. Police officers, Frank concluded, were often desensitized due to the
things they saw in Jersey and as a result they spoke clinically of people much
like himself. People became numbers, tasks. Way’s case, however, was just
troubled enough for Frank and all those associated with his care to struggling
maintaining a professional front.
Flashing with misdirected anger at the thought of another boy stealing his time
with Master, Gerard began scratching absently with nerves, picking at his skin
until it started to bleed. Saddened and hurt at not being enough for Him, that
there were things he couldn’t give his master. It wasn't until late that
evening staff of his ward had noticed anything was amiss other than the
expected case of post-traumatic stress. What had started as a nervous itch
during his various meetings that day had turned into an attempt to claw all the
way through his skin and to his veins openly in the hallway without shame.
Being frequently moved in and out of unfamiliar spaces had taken its toll and
the thought that his master loved others had pushed him over the edge. A nurse
quickly intervened.
An emergency reevaluation with a psychiatrist exposed potential Stockholm
Syndrome and agoraphobic tendencies. The only line is separating Gerard from
diagnosis the lack of DCM criteria. Information was pried from the dazed man,
mainlined with an anti-anxiety drug he found himself professing his love for
the man that owned him, that he had wanted everything that came his way. He
told anyone that listened he had been cared for and protected and punished
appropriately like a parent would do for a child. The rebuttal being that he
had been found tied outside like an animal, and no parent should repeatedly
rape and starve their child leaving scars from abuse littered over their skin.
Gerard said little after that stating only that he was a pet.
Upon return to his bed, Gerard had lashed out at the nearest nurse making a
last ditch effort to gain freedom. Ripping out his IV and brandishing the
needle like a weapon. Heavy sedation was needed to put him to rest that night.
He was placed under watch and sanctioned to the hospital’s care until deemed no
longer a danger to himself and those around him. This was the night Frank had
met him, in a drug induced sleep, and given his case. At the time, it had
minimal written notes from the police and consisted mostly of photographs of
his abused body and speculation of how individual injuries formed on his body.
He had found himself thankful he only had to look at these once and could now
skip straight past it to his writings on the patient. The file had quickly
become thick with pages of hospital reports and copies of Way’s release forms.
A new divider was put in the file to mark when Frank became officially in
charge of his care, with the assistance of the hospital rather than Frank
assisting the hospital.
Arriving at his office, he returned to his reports on Way. Marking in what they
talked about, the way the younger man looked at him when he came out from his
hiding space, how he spoke of his captor showing affection and how he silenced
at Frank's suggestion of abuse. A brief glance at the clock showed he had ten
minutes until his next appointment that was thankfully taking place in his
office. Enough time for a quick visit to the scanner to email his latest update
to Way's file to his psychiatrist that had once fortnightly appointments with
the patient opposed to Frank's once daily visits.
An uneventful end to office hours and one canceled appointment led to Frank
leaving early enough to stop at a florist to pick up something small for Jamia.
In his line of work, he saw many people that have no support except those paid
to be supportive. It was a reminder of how thankful he was to have a loving
girlfriend and his dogs to greet him on his return home every night.
Dogs barked as he opened his front door, he smiled down at them, crouching to
give them a quick pat, before he spotted Jamia in the kitchen preparing dinner,
tossing a smile over her shoulder to him. Nights like these were what he lived
for.
Master was tense, Gee noticed while sitting at his feet. He had yet to hear the
sound of the other man's back hitting the back of the chair and his feet
shifting to sit on the coffee table. He knew it was because he had cried. He
had shown emotion for those that he now had evidence of their abandonment. The
first time he has even thought of them in what felt like years was as he read
their names in the paper. Mikey had last hope too. He had tried to stop when
commanded, but tears continued to spill down his cheeks even now as Master
watched football. It was never a good sign to be ignored for this long after
being brought up the stairs.
The television was paused, and Gerard flinched tensing himself for impact.
"Baby, you know how much I love you. Don't you?" Master smiled down at him.
"And you understand I only showed you the article was to prove that I am the
only one who loves you."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
He resisted the urge to giggle as he was pulled up onto the couch, into his
master's side nuzzling into the older man. Gerard suppressed a grin at the
feeling of being surrounded by His love and understanding. He basked in the
affection after the fear of being punished subsided as he felt fingers
smoothing out his limp hair and run down to his prominent collar bones.
"And how are you supposed to thank me, Gee baby?" The older man was quick to
admonish.
He made quick work of the all too familiar belt buckle. Slipping his fingers
into the trousers.
This act was once a strain on his soul. A thing of repulsion with teeth and
gagging and tears. Memories of the punishments made him flinch an unusually
rough tug of his hair every once and a while. It had always ended in punishment
in the past, being locked downstairs. He was quickly trained out of his
hesitations and found himself enjoying the rough pulling of his hair and the
feeling of Master’s cock hitting the back of his throat. Where he once felt
used and destroyed, he found comfort in the intimacy he imagined. He smiled
into the task at hand. A life of servitude was all he wanted.
Chapter End Notes
     Um hey everyone. You're all sweethearts honestly without you lot that
     commented i'd have been too nervous to post again. Thank you for your
     kind words. They all made me blush a little Thnk you.
***** third time is the charm *****
Chapter Summary
     Gerard makes national television and no one is pleased
     lmao @ media for being giant bags of unethical shit happens irl al
     the time and its kinda sick
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Watching the news in the small amount of free time the couple got was something
typically adult they had adopted upon their exit from college. The routine had
formed when they first moved in together and got their first serious jobs in
starting their careers. Jamia worked as an intern in an art gallery, and Frank
joined a group of experienced psychologists and occupational therapist looking
to branch out into a private practice. Jamia would throw something vegetarian
together in their meat-free household- bar the dogs’ food- when she returned
from work, slightly earlier than her partner. Frank thanked her with small
displays of affection at least once a week. That night’s had been flowers and a
quick kiss on the cheek on his way to get out plates and utensils.
The television switched on as they began to eat together, on their bar stools
touching wherever they could reach while eating.The top story of the night made
Frank drop his fork to the floor.
It wasn’t the first time Frank had seen his client’s story covered. It had been
all over the news when Gerard had first found himself freed from captivity. Don
and Donna had openly requested for Gerard’s privacy to be respected, leaving a
statement about the joy of having their son returned. In the following weeks
information about Gerard’s captor, Hayden Baxter, was slowly leaking.
Information on his extensive criminal record and relationships gone wrong, one
leading to a restraining order. Baxter’s family had revealed he had expressed
his interest in older teens before but had dismissed the ephebophilia as it was
deemed socially accepted that most men experienced an attraction to the age
group. News teams followed these with reports on the importance of monitoring
young teens, maintaining consistent contact and romanticized abuse’s influence
of youth.
He caught a quick flash of footage of himself alongside the Way family exiting
the hospital. The headline read “Stockholm Syndrome Patient Released- Graphic
Content, discretion advised". It was the first piece of footage showing
Gerard’s face, or what was visible through his hair draped down over his face.
The reporter stated that they were unable to get information as to how the
hospital release approved despite Gerard’s history of violence since being
freed, describing his various “psychopathic” attempts to return to his captor.
They had gone as far as to show photographs of Gerard’s injuries, the boy
smiling with Baxter in an image that had been found on Gerard’s person,
Baxter’s mugshot and the house he was trapped in.
The reporter covered information that hadn’t been released to the public. It
was implied that someone close to the family had revealed more personal details
of Gerard’s therapy, followed by an image of Frank identifying him as the
primary therapist associated with the case. They had even shown a shot of him
pulling out of the family’s driveway, all but identifying the location of their
home. The report was rife with misinformation of Stockholm Syndrome and quoted
an anonymous “insider” revealing of Gerard’s love and defense of Baxter. The
file statement brought into question the safety of the Way family with the 21-
year-old in their home and Frank’s close age to his patient, only four years
his superior.
“Those fuckers... Has no one on this planet heard of tact?” Frank was in shock,
unable to move as he watched the report unfold, allowing the dogs to run off
with his fork. “Who would tell the media this shit?”
“Frankie, it’s okay,” Jamia rubbed his arm, “The press can be jerks, remember
how they tried getting a rise out of us when your mother died?”
“This is different, they’ve essentially put a target on us for hassle over my
patient while making my job harder as they labeled the kid as unstable rather
than a victim. What are his parents going to say when they see this?”
“They probably didn’t mean for that to happen. The media just want a good
story. Just report it to work in the morning and the Way family when you next
see them. You probably should tell me much more, I wouldn’t want to get you in
trouble over confidentiality.”
Frank sat in silence; he struggled with the idea of calling the family. It was
out of his hours, but if the family had seen the report, it could be harmful to
them, disrupting the progress they had made. And if they hadn’t already he
could prevent damage. The reporter had all but stated the Gerard shouldn’t be
allowed to return to society due to his instability. Donna had been distraught
every time he had seen her.
The news station had used unethical tactics to flesh out their stories before,
going as far as stalking victims of police shootings’ families to get a quote.
He’d have to get a superior to make a complaint. He knew he had to make a
statement himself later in the week about the harm that the report could have
caused.
“Deal with it in the morning, baby,” Jamia handed him her fork, prying him out
of his thoughts. “Just eat up for now and we can watch a movie, unwind before
bed.”
For the second time today, Frank was thankful to have Jamia on his side.
The Way household, two suburbs away, was silent. Mikey turned the television
off after the report on his brother had ended, red-faced with anger. Donna’s
tears slid down her cheeks, for the first time thankful Gerard had locked
himself away in his room. She watched as images of her son’s frail and bruised
body covered the screen, listened to the accusations against him and the man
trying to help him. The adjectives used and the implicated theories. She took
it all in.
A strangled cry had the two twisted the two in their seats to look at the door.
They hadn’t been alone in the living room. Gerard was on his knees in the frame
whimpering, not looking up as Donna’s tears turned to sobs at the sight of him.
Mikey was quickly on his feet, reached out to comfort his brother. The physical
contact made Gerard recoil in fear, he shuffled away and stumbled to his feet.
"Gerard, stop!" Mikey yelled, frustrated at his brother's fear of him.
Gerard dropped back to his knees, shaking. Mikey realized his mistake and
pulled him into his arms. Holding him like a child to his chest, mirroring the
way it had once been done for him with the very boy in his arms. Moments like
these it was hard to remember Gerard was his elder, it was as though he had
stopped developing at 15 and Mikey succeeded him in his role of protector.
 
“Are you crying, my precious boy?”  Master pulled his hair, ripping his face
off the mattress.
Gerard whimpered around the makeshift gag in his mouth, nodding because he knew
better than to lie. Lying was the first thing he was punished for in a similar
position to his current. Tied, naked, to a cheap metal bed frame by his wrists,
face down and exposed. Upper thighs littered with bruising, skin split.
Moisture was dripping down them.
"Do you want to go home?"
He hesitated, was the question a trick? Dismissing the thought, he nodded
slowly. His hair was released, and his Master's hand ran down his spine, index
finger firmly tracing bones.
"Even if I did let you go they wouldn't want you. Not when they realize what a
slut you are."  His fingers continued past the tailbone, through the cleft of
his victim's ass, circling the freshly loosened hole, dripping with cum.
"You're my slut, Gee baby. No one will want you after they know how hard you
get from something as simple as this. My depraved, psychopathic little boy."
Gerard tried to still his shaking, willed his breathing to slow, forced his
body to unflinchingly comply as he was entered. He slammed himself back on
Master's fingers.
"My needy little slut," he laughed, "You love this. Look, there's no need to
cry. You'll always be mine after all. If you leave, you'll just come crawling
back to me, they'll call you crazy. I'm the only one who will ever love you."
Whimpers of fear blended into those of pleasure. He was a slut, the way he
ground into the fingers penetrating him made it clear. He wanted to go home; he
wanted more of this. He cried of sadness; he cried of happiness. He hated the
pain, loved the pleasure. His feelings were muddled as he came, saliva soaking
the material shoved in his mouth. All he knew was Master's love got him through
the pain.
Chapter End Notes
     ew rapey bullshit is hard to write gross gross but necessary im so
     sorry im sory if i made you uncomf i was uncomf too but yeah there ya
     go.
     like last chapter at least gerard was like "yeeeesssss" even if it
     was a questionable yes but i just ugh help me
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Sitting the the driveway, file on the passenger seat. Frank was in the same
position as the night before only this time with a little more motivation. He
got out slowly, the file tucked under one arm and a small messenger bag over
his shoulder. It was time to get professional and be diplomatic. He knocked
with a polite smile already trained onto his face. He almost dropped it when he
saw a puffy eyed Donna behind the now open door.
“Mrs Way, I take it you saw the news,” he said, cautiously checking over his
shoulder as if expecting cameras to have had appeared in the last second.
She simply nodded, stepping aside to allow him entrance.
That was how Frank found himself, sunken into the cushions of an armchair,
surrounded by the entire family sans his actual client. He sat on an armchair,
looking questioningly at the boy on Mikey’s arm rest. That was new. He looked
almost like a caricature of an emo teen in his mother’s make up and his
sister’s jeans. Frank smiled a little brighter at the thought, remembering
trying the look himself.
“Boyfriend,” Mikey stated, looking away as Frank made a note of it.
“Pete,” the strange boy said, glaring at Mikey clearly offended by not getting
an actual name.
Frank wrote that down too.
“Are you around often?” Frank questioned, flicking to a new page.
Pete watched him write before responding with a question. “Are you going to
write everything I say down?”
Frank snapped the folder shut, deciding to try transcribe Pete’s words after he
finished speaking to make him more comfortable. Honestly, teenagers. Or at
least that was what he presumed Pete to be due to Mikey’s age of eighteen and
his ghastly smudging of eyeliner. The pair were both playing on sidekicks
before Frank had begun talking, Mikey was the only one of the two still on his.
“Sorry, no. I just needed to write down who was here,” he explained, “Anyways,
you in this house often? Do you live with you parents?”
“I was here most days until Gerard returned and I’d like to keep it that way,”
Pete stated, almost bitter about the interruption Gerard had caused. “I do live
with my parents, I don’t see why it’s relevant.”
So, probably a teenager or a jobless adult, okay relationship with parents,
Frank inferred. He made a mental note to ask Mikey about why it had not been
mentioned before. The topic of having house guests had been broached but no one
contributed to the list of regular visitors. An unstable relationship maybe?
That could put strain on Gerard. The topic required attention soon then.
“Everything I know about people Gerard interacts with can be useful,” Frank
explained, but changed the subject at the sight of Pete opening his mouth
again, “Anyone want to talk about the news last night?”
Mikey was the first to speak up. “That picture of Gerard and… That dickbag. Why
did he look so happy? I know it’s like the Stockholm Syndrome stuff but… He
looked genuinely like he wanted to be there. And he still cries for him, like,
at night. Is he really that fucked up?”
“Michael,” Donna hissed.
“No, it’s a valid question,” Frank intervened, he hated breaking up arguments,
best pinch it before it expanded, “Gerard spent a long time, ripped away from
reality and he built up defenses to make himself more comfortable. His mind
makes him think he was better under the control of another person and that was
how he found happiness. I can find you a paper on it if you’re really
struggling to understand. I’m not an expert on it.”
“That was my next question,” Don interjected quickly, “Are you really too close
to Gerard’s age to help him, Frank?”
“I would say no on two main points,” Frank sighed, knowing the question would
come up, “His psychiatrist recommended me because I am close to his age. It
follows the idea that it gives Gerard a person that is stable in their own
career and home life to be a positive influence while still having someone
trained enough to manage his case. As well as close enough in age to not have
blatant links to authority which he theoretically may associate with ownership
and dominance which is a social habit we are working to break slowly. You’re
welcome to refute that logic with his psych if you wish.”
Donna nodded and her husband seemed content with the answer. Mikey had already
pulled out his phone with Pete watching the screen too. Frank took the
opportunity to take notes without the attention of the teenagers. It was
probably in his client’s best interests to separate the two, perhaps talk to
Mikey alone.
He rifled through papers, looking for the one discussing visitation and a
profile for Pete to fill out. He handed the two sheets of paper over,
requesting Pete fill them out in the kitchen. Frank watched him shuffle out. He
then suggested Don and Donna check on Gerard, leaving him with Mikey. Mikey
continued taping on his phone, looking oblivious to the fact that he was now
alone with the therapist.
“So, Mikey,” Frank started, “How is your relationship with Pete?”
“Good.”
The one word answer had been expected. Frank decided to reword the question.
“Do you mind telling me why you hadn’t mentioned him before?”
“I was distracted by the town’s ‘psychopath’ coming home.”
Frank frowned, “You know they were wrong about that, right? Your brother is far
from psychopathic. He behaves a little antisocially but given the circumstances
it would hardly qualify him for a personality disorder. Do you think he
displays symptoms of psychopathy?”
Mikey just sighed. “Is Pete allowed to be here or not? Don’t go psychologist-
ing me right now.”
“He is, it’s just interesting that you wouldn’t mention your boyfriend until he
was sitting in on a family session.”
“We broke up. Didn’t think he would be coming around much.”
Frank scribbled in that his suspicions were confirmed. He had to think
carefully about his next question, expecting it to gain a hostile answer if he
asked something that could be perceived as hostile.
“Do you break up often?” he asked reluctantly.
“Only once," Mikey mumbled.
"Would you like to talk why that is?"
"Jealousy."
Frank felt like he was having a conversation with a brick wall. "Over..?"
"His friends."
The one sided talk was interrupted by Donna and her forced smile announcing
Gerard's arrival. He was withdrawn, further away than Frank had seen him. Not
just mentally but physically. The last time Gerard was holding himself that far
away from everyone it was only a few minutes before he was sprinting down his
stairs. Despite this Gerard spoke first.
"May I speak to Frank, please?" Gerard glanced around at everyone in the room
looking for consent, lingering longer on Mikey and his father.
Frank barely remembered to scribble it down, surprised by the request. And not
in a negative way. Gerard making any noise other than what is asked of him is a
shock.
"Of course, honey... Go take Mikey's spot," Donna smiled, reaching an arm out
to her son before thinking better of it.
Mikey stood and Frank thanked him for his time in a form of goodbye.
"As is routine, my suggestions for safety improvements and risk reduction are
here," Frank said, handing Donald a typed out list as he walked through the
door.
He watched him scan over it quickly before setting off to the living room to
meet with Gerard. Don poked his head in while Frank said his hellos to his
client.
"Doctor, I have a set of locks for the first suggestion. Will it be much if a
bother if I start that now?"
Home improvement suggestion one: Making a cupboard in the kitchen lockable to
hold sharps and medicine.
"Just Frank is fine, Mr Way, and that would be no trouble at all."
There's a solid ten minutes of Frank speaking about the importance of goal
setting until a drill starts up in the kitchen. Another point five of a second
until the drill hits wood. Another second for Gerard to be on his feet and
three more until he's securely under the table and by this time the drill is
switched off.
Gerard was shaking and in tears, gripping the table leg like he was in an
earthquake and the world was falling around him.
"You're safe, Gerard. Come out from there. It was just a drill, your dad was
just trying to make you safer. He didn't mean to frighten you."
"No. I'm not coming out. Leave me alone." This was the first time Gerard had
uttered the word 'no' in Frank's presence. The first time he spoke out of turn.
It took just over an hour to get him to come out from under the table.
Now in Mikey's place, Gerard looked up at Frank in a rare moment of bravery,
looking his therapist in the eye. He took a moment to just look before lowering
his gaze to his knees.
"Are you really that close to my age?" He asked quietly, not looking up.
Frank thought about it a minute. "Did you not think I was?"
He shook his head. "You look older... The news... Were they trying to say that
you were interested in me? I... wouldn't have minded if they were right."
Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Gerard Way was still so young in his
mind. He had virtually stopped developing socially after his capture, almost
regressing in some aspects. Right now was not one of those times. He spoke
softly, head bowed and seemly shy.
His shy demeanor was with good reason, had he looked up he would have seen the
flashes of confusion and realization cross Frank's face. He almost visibly
cringed at his words and the connotations they held.
"While that is what they were implying... That's not why I'm here. It would be
unprofessional. Was that all you paid attention to last night?"
Frank wasn't surprised at the small jerk of his head in confirmation. He sighed
and made a note of it to mention when he returned to the office. Perhaps he
wasn't the person for this job as much as Gerard's psychiatrist thought he was.
Gerard's nod was all the motivation Frank needed to excuse himself.
Chapter End Notes
     oops I'm back hey
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The twenty minute drive from Belleview to Newark, Frank thought about how to
get around the current problem. He missed his office, his nice desk chair that
he splurged on with his own income, the comfy sofa provided by his employer and
the single exit room that lead to the reception. Being surrounded by coworkers
when he got stuck, the ease of swapping clients until they found pairings that
fit. An easy escape from a client that wanted to get a little unprofessional.
He groaned quietly and took a deep breath. He needed to remain calm and
relaxed, ‘never take your work home with you’ was the best advice he had been
given. The same thing applied to the car drive to and from. The car was his own
space and he cleared all thoughts of Gerard out his head.
He parked in the space with his name written on it when he arrived in parking
lot behind the office, a little too proud of being significant enough to
require a park. He worked hard for it, Jamia had always been quick to point
out, he should be proud. It was only feet away from the back entrance and an
elevator away from the mental health services. He straightened himself up in
the elevator and hit the button for his floor. He tried not to be nervous about
seeing his superiors but that was hard given the circumstances.  With a smile
at the young blonde on reception and headed straight to his office. He set
Way’s file down on his desk and flicked an email to Joe, the head of
department, requesting a chat. He typed a report of the session and prepared
himself for another adolescent to come through for an evaluation. An email from
Joe popped up in the corner of his screen and he passed the time until Joe was
free with his work. He was alerted of his allotted time in a similar manner, a
notification in the corner of his screen, thinking hard the entire walk to his
superior's office.
“I... wouldn’t have minded if they were right.”  The alarm bells were ringing
the second the words had come from Gerard’s lips. The many things they could
imply. It was highly unlikely he was looking at an innocent schoolyard crush or
any crush for that matter. After years of abuse it was more likely for him to
be placing authority on Frank. He had caught the implications of the news
reader and ran with them, more than likely twisted them to his own sense of
normal. It was obvious through the limited conversations and Gerard’s behavior
that he was still looking to be controlled. It was what he knew.
Frank sighed as he was released from the meeting. All he had gotten out of it
was a slap on the wrist for following instinct. He didn’t have much reason to
back his beliefs that Gerard was seeking something more than a standard
therapist relationship. It didn't matter that it made him uncomfortable. He was
being unprofessional was all he was told. A professional would put the
patient's needs first. Which was what he had tried to do, by you know… Finding
someone more suited. More female perhaps. He sighed most of his drive home,
there was nothing like being put in your place on the grounds of age and less
experience. They weren’t even sending anyone in to review the situation with
him. The next step would be to discuss with Gerard’s psychiatrist if he really
thought it necessary, he was told and sent on his way.
The entire matter was pushed aside the second he opened his car door. It had
occupied enough of his personal time and Jamia was waiting with dinner for him.
All thoughts of work were banished by the time his dogs were jumping up on his
legs and the sound of the news reached his ears.
 
Gerard’s legs were tied, that was the first thing he was aware of. Second, was
the damp, cold floor beneath him and third the dark, completely impenetrable.
He tried opening and closing his eyes, no change. He knew it had to have been a
dream, there was no way he was home. There was never anyway home. His master
had to have known about his dream and punished him before he could admit to the
crime, while he was still unconscious.
“You think they’d really care enough about you to get you a shrink, beautiful?”
His master was right in his ear, whispering. “That they would take you back
into their home? If they really had, don’t think it would last long. They don’t
care about you. They want their kid back, not the cry baby you’ve turned into.”
It wasn’t real. None of it. Gerard began crying silently, there was no use
making a sound. No way out. He cried out, turning to a yelp as a firm hand came
across his cheek. Dry, creeping fingers had him screaming himself hoarse with
fear.  It was happening again. He was back where he belonged.
Then lights came on.
 
He was in his bedroom, his mother untangling him from his blanket, the smell of
urine and sweat penetrating him. Gerard looked at his mother, vaguely aware he
was still screaming. Once his sticky limbs were freed from his blankets he went
quiet, embarrassed about his current state. Sweat had glued Gerard’s sleep
shirt to his skin like a second skin. He looked around, wide eyes meeting the
wider ones of his mother. He must have been making a hell of a lot of noise.
Donna held Gerard until his shouts turned into soft whimpers. “Oh, love… Let’s
get you to the shower and in some new pajamas.” Her voice shook and she eyed
Mikey in the doorway, indicating to the chest of drawers they had recently
filled with Gerard’s new clothes.
She helped Gerard out of bed, slow and gentle. It was very different to how it
was done twenty years ago. She led him up the stairs and to the bathroom, Mikey
trailing after them with fresh clothes. The lights were switched on and the
water started, clothes placed on the floor.
“Are you going to be alright in here by yourself, Gerard?” She tried, to no
response. “I’ll come check on you in a minute… You’re safe.”
 
Frank gets a call fifty minutes later. His phone vibrating hard enough that it
fell from his nightstand, illuminating the room. He pawed around the floor,
groping for it blindly. It was 3 AM and he could barely keep his eyes open. He
finally got it in his hands and sat up, looking confused by the caller ID. What
could work want from him so early?
“Turn it off…” Jamia muttered beside him, rolling over in annoyance.
“I’ve got it, go back to sleep.”
He answered the call, slowly getting out of bed. The first thing he heard was
muffled shouts and running water. That woke him up. “Hello?” He closed the
bedroom door behind him, worried about Jamia hearing.
“Frank, it’s Caitlin from the overnight team. We’re in the home of Gerard Way,
unable to settle him. He’d really like to see you. I know you aren’t on call
but-”
Frank cut her off. “Yeah, no, I get it. Thanks for calling. I’ll be there..
Soonish. Just get him as comfortable as you can.”
He groaned after saying his goodbyes and ending the call. Using his phone as a
flashlight, he tried to quietly find some clothes, settling for the workwear he
had been wearing earlier and had dumped carelessly on the floor. He dressed in
the living room, switching a light on and leaving a note for Jamia incase she
woke before he returned. He wasn’t even sure he was fit to drive considering
how tired he was but he boiled the jug to get some caffeine into his system,
petting his dog while he waited. Every second he waited seemed slightly selfish
when someone needed him. It was an irrational thought, he was going above and
beyond what was expected of him by even being awake at this time. He just hoped
it showed his dedication or whatever to Joe who clearly thought him too young.
Being tired made him snappy.
The tired grumpiness wore off as he drove, sipping a second mug of coffee. He
wasn’t sure if it was legal to drink and drive but it was also pretty bad to
fall asleep behind the wheel. He turned on to the Way’s drive to find his usual
park taken, by Caitlin he assumed. He parked along the curb instead and got
out, only just noticing he never tied his shoes and his cardigan was buttoned
wrong. He made himself more presentable, giving up on his bed hair at a loud
shout from inside. He speed walked to the door and knocked.
At first glance, everything in the house seemed okay. Despite the noise nothing
was knocked over, there were no major signs of struggle and Donna looked
shaken, not hurt. The coat rack in the entry was still upright and there were
no blood stains like you would expect to see based on the sounds Gerard was
making deeper in the house earlier. An odd combination of weak whimpers and the
occasional cry was what remained. It was much quieter than when he had received
the call.
“Thank you for coming. I- I just left him to shower and he wouldn’t stop
shouting, it’s awful.” She looked defeated and hopeless. Sad that she wasn’t
enough for her son, that he needed more than just her help. “He calmed some
once Caitlin said you were coming but… Not enough. He’s still in the bathroom
down the hall. He’s so anxious we can’t even get him to dress himself. He’s
hallucinating.”
Frank nodded, letting himself in. “I’m sorry you’re having such a late night.
You did the right thing by calling the team though. It’s going to be alright.”
He walked past the rest of Gerard’s family, heads down sitting in the living
room just listening. The living room was all in order too, nothing screamed out
of place other than the silence between father and son. Donna took a seat a few
steps behind Frank, letting him find his own way to the bathroom. There was no
further acknowledgement of Frank so he continued on his way.
The bathroom was where the mess began. Bloodied toilet paper had been piled on
the sink, out of the way and the smell of disinfectant hit him. Caitlin,
looking slightly disheveled with messier hair than Frank had seen on her in all
his time of knowing her, was kneeling next to Gerard. He was only covered in a
towel and a blanket, with bandages on his arms. It couldn’t have been too bad a
wound, Frank assumed just scratches based on what he could see. Gerard was
shaking, staring up at Frank from the second he had entered the room. He
crouched down next to Caitlin and Gerard had finally silenced in his presence.
“What’s going on here?” He asked no one in particular, not minding if Gerard or
Caitlin answered.
“Gerard’s just been having some bad dreams, haven’t you?” Caitlin looked to
gerard with a soft smile. “I think he’s still not quite out of the dream… He
thinks Baxter is still in the room. I’ve been using the distraction methods for
the past hour but Gerard keeps getting lost.”
“Gone…” Gerard croaked out, voice raspy. “It’s quiet…”
“That’s a really long time to be hallucinating. You must be so stressed,
Gerard. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Do you want to talk about what
you heard or which distraction helped the most?” Frank asked, getting
comfortable.
Gerard slowly described his dream, his uncertainties about reality as he sipped
water. His voice breaking as he went but he was quick to tell Frank what he
wanted to know. He confessed he didn’t realise that he had scratched his arms
open again until they were covered. He sat up straighter as he spoke, looking
Frank in the eye occasionally. Frank smiled at him encouragingly each time.
Caitlin stood eventually, to check on the family.
This left Frank to quietly hum the intro to Metallica songs with Gerard, just
helping distract him from what wasn’t real. “They usually hum ‘Happy Birthday’
because everyone knows it but I noticed the posters in your room.” Frank
explained.
“I liked them… Before.” Gerard said softly. “The posters make me nervous now…”
“We can get you some new ones when you feel ready to leave the house again.”
Frank knew it wouldn’t be soon but he knew it would eventually happen.
The two spoke quietly for a short while longer until he felt Gerard was truly
over the episode. He didn’t think the hallucinations were a symptom of
psychosis but simply an outburst of stress that lasted slightly longer than
necessary in combination with new medication that his body was adjusting too.
It didn’t mean anything in terms of recovery except something to watch out for
and something to teach the Way family about so they can help Gerard themselves
if there was a next time. He stood once Gerard returned to silence, instructing
him to get dressed before returning to the living room.
“I still believe Gerard is safe to be in home to himself and others. We need to
do something about his nails, however, the self harm isn’t intentional I don’t
believe.” Frank began, assessing the family quickly. “Perhaps if Mikey could
stay downstairs with him for the night it would be helpful for Gerard to know
he isn’t alone. And a closer observation of showering, such as check-ins every
couple of minute. Just for the next few days.” Frank advised. “An extra anti-
anxiety might benefit him now.”
Another half hour of talking and further guidance for the family, they got
Gerard settled into bed. Frank and Caitlin went outside to fill out an incident
form together in the back of her car. A curtain opened, unnoticed by Frank, a
small amount of light leaking out of a foot wide basement window. Gerard peeked
out for a second, struggling to see Frank in Caitlin’s car, mostly looking at
sneaker, dangling out. He closed the curtain back up once both the therapists’
cars were gone.
Mikey finally joined Gerard downstairs just as the eldest sat back into bed. He
had his bed cover from upstairs and a pillow. He had brought them down the
stairs with waves of nostalgia, remembering when he and Gerard used to have
sleepovers in each other's’ rooms as kids.
“I… I pulled out the couch for you...” Gerard had also tried to make it
somewhat comfortable with half his pillows and extra blankets.
“Thanks, Gee.” Mikey smiled at him, always trying to be gentle with his older
brother despite his fears. It didn’t matter that his brother was crazy, just
that they were together again. He didn’t know how long the pleasant would last
but he was trying his best despite being kept up so late. Mikey struggled to
sleep in general so the extra late night was yet to impact his mood, which
lifted with Gerard’s calm.
Chapter End Notes
     hello, sorry this took some time! I started college and things just
     get wild. here you go. um, don't question the accuracy of how the
     working world works because i kinda just guess half the time lmao
     also i know its a weird combination of UK English and US English but
     i'm too tired to edit for that because my life is such a jumble of
     both
     anyway! hope you enjoyed
End Notes
     I'm nervous about this one because i don't know much about in home
     therapy but i do know about how in office therapy works so im
     just..... sorry if i get something wrong
     Anyway welcome, hi, hello have a nice time
     Criticise me it's my favourite thing ever because i learn from it
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