Pairing: Pikey (Pete/Mikey)

           The next show went fine, and in the familiar feeling of being onstage, nearly everyone relaxed and became less concerned. The following day found them in Tennessee with a few less security personnel. Spirits were high and danger seemed to have been pushed to the backs of their minds. It was business as usual. The only thing different about this show really was that their encore had been canceled. The set had gone off without a hitch and the audience seemed even more into it than usual. It wasn't until the intro to 'Famous Last Words' that Pete started getting a weird vibe. He'd been watching Mikey carefully when he wasn't scanning the crowd, and he could tell by the way his shoulders had tensed up and the rigid way he stood that Mikey felt it too. Something was off. Pete didn't find out what until halfway through the song.

          In stories time slows down when something bad happens, probably because that's more dramatic. In real life, it happens so fast that it's nearly incomprehensible. They'd just reached the second chorus when Mikey missed a chord… two… three. In their excitement and absorption, no one else onstage seemed to notice. Pete was already screaming to Worm when Mikey tore his bass off, dropped it to the ground, and sprinted for his brother. Pete caught a flash of metal in the crowd right in front of Gerard seconds before Mikey flew into him and threw them both down, Gerard's head hitting the stage with an almost audible crack. In the same instant, Pete heard the most terrifying sound in his life above the sound of guitar, rhythm guitar, and drums stopping instantly. Worm's second in command was on the other side of the stage and he pulled Ray off roughly and without any kind of warning before he ran for Bob. Worm manhandled a shocked and struggling Frank into the arms of another guard before he ran out to Mikey and Gerard. Pete could see a writhing mass of uniformed bodies in the front row and guessed that the shooter had been brought down. Shooter. Gun. Somebody had shot at his brother-in-law. Right as his husband reached him. Gerard was sitting up, a blankly surprised look on his face. He didn't appear to register anything Worm was saying, a red spot on his temple showing that he'd hit about as hard as Pete thought. Mikey was stirring weakly. He wasn't getting up. Mikey. Wasn't. Getting. Up.

          Pete was still frozen. Worm turned his attention to the younger Way and his eyes widened. He quickly yanked a towel off his shoulder and pressed it to Mikey's chest. Mikey threw his head back and must have cried out, but Pete couldn't hear it over the roaring and screaming of the crowd. He vaguely registered someone frantically yelling that they needed the police into a radio behind him, but he was already running. Pete wasn't a soccer star in high school for nothing. He reached Mikey's side before his cry subsided. Gerard was beginning to snap out of his daze when Pete started to unbutton Mikey's uniform jacket. He couldn't see what was wrong through the blackness of the fabric with only stage lights shining on it. Worm helped him and within seconds the coat was discarded and Mikey's sweat and blood-soaked white undershirt was revealed. His chest was heaving, and the left side of it was bleeding freely. Mikey lifted his head to look.

          "Fuck." He croaked, dropping his head back to the stage. The sight of his little brother's blood seemed to wake Gerard up.

          "Oh shit. Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit." Worm swiftly covered the wound with the towel again and pressed down. Mikey screamed. Pete took his hand and held it tightly. He was momentarily fascinated by the sight of their joined hands, wet with Mikey's blood. Then Worm was speaking to him.

          "What?"

          "Has anyone called an ambulance?!" Pete nodded. Worm yanked his radio off his belt and yelled into it. "I need people out back now, clear the fans out so the ambulance can pull right up to the back doors. I want police around the front. The shooter's in our custody and I want the fucker gone right now! Someone call the dispatcher again. Tell them we have a man down. Let them know we're still on the stage, I'm not moving him until paramedics get here." Static and an unintelligible mumble answered him and Worm shouted back, "Tell Iero to shut the fuck up and stay back! More people out here is the last fucking thing we need right now!" Worm's expression cleared for a moment. "Scratch that, send him out back with the guys that are clearing things out. Tell him to tell the fans that someone's been hurt and beg them to move out. They're loyal, they might listen. And it'll keep the little bastard from getting in more trouble. Someone find Toro and tell him to call Schecter. Tell him what we know for now and that Mikey's going to the hospital. And someone drop these goddamn lights! If this asshole wasn't working alone we don't need to find out by having someone else get shot!" The lights shut off almost instantly, like someone competent had been dying to do it before but didn't want to without direction. Pete felt a distant burst of respect for Worm's people.

          Mikey's breathing was slowing and his eyes were fluttering shut. "Keep him awake!" Worm yelled at Pete and Gerard. "Talk to him! Don't let him go to sleep! If you have to, press down on his side, the pain'll wake him up!" Gerard looked scandalized and opened his mouth to argue.

          "The alternative is death!" Worm snapped at him. "Feel better about hurting him now?!" Gerard recoiled as if Worm had physically struck him and looked down at Mikey like he still couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. He reached a hand out and rested it on Mikey's right cheek, tilting his face toward Gerard.

          "You are an asshole." Surprised, Mikey blinked his eyes open completely. "You are such a fucking asshole. Don't you EVER try to take a bullet for me again." Mikey smiled weakly. Then his eyes rolled back in his head.