I've realized we haven't seen Gerard's side of the story yet

This is the fourth time he's woken up in a cold sweat this week. Hair drenched, shirt soaked, and eyes red and tired. The last two weeks have been symptoms after symptoms. He's prescribed himself with guilt, worry, and stress. All signs point to it. Insomnia, stabs of guilt mid conversation, the inability to leave the house, severe depressive episodes. And what feels the worst is the frequent vomiting. Out of stress, guilt, hatred to himself. To Patrick. To Mikey.

But this, this is the feeling of guilt at its finest. Staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night, hands on his mouth, unable to comprehend the weight of that decision.

"Oh," Patrick grins, "There's plenty you haven't given over. Starting with your clients. We get to keep Mikey here for a month, and we will give him back in exchange for your top ten clients, 25% of your earnings next year, and..."

Patrick glances at their car, "That, too. "

"Fuck that, that's too fucking much!" Gerard replies, "Anything else."

Patrick grins, "Would you rather it be your brother's life? You're lucky we're letting him out alive after this."

"I don't... I..." Gerard takes a minute, frustrated and afraid. He doesn't have a choice, "fuck... fine. Deal."

This is the hatred of himself, of what he did to Mikey. He could have called everyone up. He could have made it through. They could have a shootout, anything is better than the trauma he knows Mikey will return with.

He doesn't realize he's crying, trembling until Frank pulls him close and he lets out a soft sob. He whispers, soft, like honey, "it's okay. It's okay, he's going to be okay. It's not your fault."

He knows exactly what to say because they've gone through this at least seven times before. Gerard huddles into a ball, trembles as he cries into Frank's chest and he finds himself falling asleep like that. Lack of sleep is a bitch. But he knows, he knows it's only twelve more days.