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11 October 2008 @ 04:14 am
Scum. Twenty. Part. Two. [the LAST chapter]  
Title: Scum. Twenty. Part. Two.
Author : slashxyouxup
Pairing: Frank&Gerard
Rating: NC-17 for the whole thing
Summary: Manchester 1973 - Forest Bank Borstal for Delinquent Boys – Frank, Gerard and a herd of other young boys are about to be taught a lesson. If you wrong, you will be wronged.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a sick imagination and an obsession with Google
Warnings: Swearing, violence, beating, rape, racism, sexual situations.

[Inflammable material planted in my head]
[Must we only wait and see what the future will bring]
[Try to break down the imaginary wall]
[Rastus is a Nigger]
[I felt the blow in both knee caps]
[You look for a hero well don't look at me]
[Johnny was a good man]
[Nothin to do, y'know what I mean?]
[On each side time and prime us]
[Don‘t be bitten twice]
[Flockin over ‘ere]
[The Night Was Ripe With Waste Land Light i]
[The Night Was Ripe With Waste Land Light ii]
[We’re gonna make it on our own because we’ve found people to trust]
[Yer eyes did shine, yer lips were fine]
[I could be a hero]
[Waste my life]
[All caught up in barbed wire love]
[You set my arm alight]
[Hate has made you blind]
[Across the wire we were holding hands]
[It’s time the bastards fell i]

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When the words had fallen heavy and real on to Gerard’s ears he gasped, small and desperate, biting back the tears which poisoned his eyes. Frank slipped his hands on to Gerard’s hips, sliding beneath the material of his pajama shirt to give the soft plump flesh a firm squeeze. His lips grazed passed Gerard hair in the silence that surrounded them, just breathing and nothing more.

It seemed like a life time before Frank moved again as Gerard’s body stood on edge waiting, eyes fixated on the bars just in front, ignoring whatever lay after them. Now, right now and just for tonight, all that mattered to either of them was what lay in their cell, and aside from bunk beds and little furniture, that was just the two of them.

“Baby blue, baby blue,” Frank said, quiet and slow, “what have they been telling you?” Gerard let his eyes slip closed at the feel of Frank’s breath carrying those words Frank knew so well. They were unknown to Gerard, but Frank made it feel like they’d been written just for them, just for him, as he placed his lips on to Gerard’s jaw and whispered them again. “Baby blue, baby blue, what have they been telling you? Everyday you toe the same tired line, slave to your past you just serve your time. Stand and watch as it falls apart, they’ve taken your mind, your will and your heart.” Frank’s hand ventured further up, under the material, pushing over Gerard’s pale cold skin, stopping just over his heart. He flattened his palm over it, feeling it bump beneath as he listened.

Gerard breathed slow and deep, eyes still closed as he sucked in each breath, feeling the pulse of his heart quicken beneath Frank’s touch (as it always did) as he whispered, “they’ll never take my heart.”

Frank pressed his mouth hard to the back of Gerard’s shoulder, deep in to the skin until Gerard could feel every curve of Frank’s smile. His other hand vacated Gerard’s hip to take the same path as the other, bringing the material up further and further until it was tucked beneath his armpits. Both of Frank’s hands lay pressed over Gerard’s heart, flinching along with each beat. After pausing there for a few moments he lifted the garment, bringing it over Gerard’s head and letting it drop to the floor.

It was cold that night, as it always was, but tonight there was an extra frost in the air – though it went almost unnoticed as it hit Gerard’s skin, awakening the goose bumps which lay beneath the surface. Gerard was more focused on Frank’s lips, chapped and warm as they pressed against his back, something he was so used to doing himself to the other boy. Frank held on with his lips and fingertips, still digging in to the flesh of his chest, moving with the bumps of his heart beat and dancing with the gentle pulse.

Frank’s hands slipped back down to Gerard’s hips, gripping them for a moment as he turned him slowly around. Gerard held his breath until Frank was there, right in front of him, real and waiting. Frank smiled, looking up at Gerard through low hung lashes, which made him look almost feminine.

“I’m not the sort of man, to just leave well alone,” Frank said, one hand running slowly up Gerard’s chest once more to its previous position. After only a moment’s hesitation he pushed further up the skin until his fingers crept over Gerard’s jaw, fingertips skimming his bottom lip as he whispered, “I feel we’re all owed, so much more.”

Gerard puckered his lips against Frank’s skin, his top lip briefly hooking over the digits until Frank removed his hand all together from Gerard’s body. The vague look of disappointment was fleeting as he leaned in, tilting himself up until their lips connected in such a familiar way. And there it was, just like old times, a still hard press of innocent unsure lips. Their first kiss, the very first, laced in doubt and a faint taste of nicotine, just like they both remembered it. Gerard’s hands rose, for the first time that night, and came to rest on Frank’s sides, clinging to it – to him- like he was everything. And in the surrealism of the night, their small cell dangling before the moonlight – he was.

Want was soon to take over, and it only took one small timid whine on Frank’s part before Gerard cupped his cheek, fingers trembling as they moved over the skin. He pulled at Frank’s bottom lip with his thumb, pealing it back until he felt the flush of teeth against his tongue, cold inside his burning mouth.

It was slow, it was fast, it was sloppy and careful and timid and bold, inaccurate and silly, messy - theirs.

Gerard pulled Frank against him, hard and firm in an unbreakable embrace, holding on to him with everything he had, kissing every type of kiss they kissed all in one frantic painfully desperate kiss. It felt like hours, and Gerard was sure that at any moment he’d feel the cold of fresh sun and daylight against his shoulders, ready to swallow the shadows and take it all away. But, as his eyes flickered open, the darkness comforted him once more, reassuring they were safe.

Frank felt Gerard’s focus shift and he too opened his eyes to a cockeyed view of Gerard’s nose and left eye. As Gerard’s gaze caught his he couldn’t help but smile, pealing back their stilled lips until he could see his whole face once more.

“Hey,” he whispered, watching as the corners of Gerard’s mouth twitched and curved up.

Gerard didn’t reply, he didn’t need to. Instead, he sunk his hands under the hem of Frank’s pajama shirt, sliding it up his raised arms and dropping it to the floor somewhere near his own. And then, with his hand pressed to Frank’s heart, he gently ushered him backwards, slowly walking him those few steps that brought them level with the beds.

Frank broke from Gerard’s grasp and sat on the bed’s corner, looking up at the other boy before scooting back, engulfing himself fully within the darkness of their safe house. Looking back at the window briefly, and then forward to the shadows Frank had now wrapped himself in, Gerard climbed in to them himself.

Once inside he found Frank sat with his back straight against the wall, feet planted on the thin mattress as his hands rested on his knees. Gerard took one of those hands, squeezing it slightly and without even having to say a word Frank lay down with him. The pillows were cold, deprived of body heat since close to seven am that morning. The hairs on Frank’s neck prickled as they lay there, almost nose to nose with nothing to say. Unusually, their hands kept their distance from each other as Frank once more felt subjected to Gerard’s core stripping gaze, only this time he got to look right back and just as deep.

Gerard was the first to break, flickering his tongue over his dry lips as a hand glided forward, resting low on Frank’s bare stomach. The muscles jumped and tightened beneath Gerard’s touch and suddenly, Frank felt nervous. Breathing through it he lay his hand atop of Gerard’s and guided it across his own skin, down and round his abdomen, pushing further across until both their hands were resting on his hip. A tiny piece of unearthed skin stuck up from Frank’s bottom lip and he nipped at it with the very tips of his teeth, sucking and pulling until it was lost within his mouth. He pushed Gerard’s hand under the material of his bottoms to the warm skin which lay waiting. Frank had stopped wearing underwear to bed some time ago, so Gerard’s palm pressed against the supple flesh of Frank’s upper thigh, kneading it almost – like dough, soft and warm.

Frank brought his hand out from the confines of the material, but Gerard’s remained. With his hands now free he took a strong hold of the back of Gerard’s head and pulled it forward, his face closing in on him as he swallowed the last of the nerves and with one deep breath, pushed their mouths together.

As they kissed Gerard took a firmer hold of the flesh, trailing his tongue across the fresh wound across Frank’s bottom lip, the taste of blood gripping low in his stomach. With the blood on his tongue Gerard kissed Frank harder, pulling at the material of his pajama bottoms until they slid down his thighs to his knees where he was able to kick them off in one small swift movement. Frank pulled back slightly, breath heavy and moist on Gerard’s face as Gerard’s hand came to his own, palm flat against his cheek leaving the spot on his thigh cold.

“Gerard,” Frank whispered, but he shook his head softly, no words, and brought their lips back together again.

Just like the kisses Gerard felt as though it was the first time, the very first, his nails digging in to the side of Frank’s ribcage so they both felt the pain – the burn. Only this time, it hurt for different reasons.

Frank’s skin held many bruises, all different in shape and size and memory and even in the dark, Gerard could see them all, feel them, taste them on Frank’s lips as their crushed mouths together to hide the noises they were desperate to make. But in time they’d learnt to tell in other ways, communicate through body language, through silence and looks. When Gerard panted, Frank knew to move faster, when he sucked in his breath – sharp – Frank knew he was getting closer to the pressure – the bundle of nerves which made Gerard’s eyelids flutter. When Frank bit at his bottom lip, Gerard knew he was holding back for his sake, when he glanced up the bottom of the top bunk Gerard knew he was trying to find it – that place and when he closed his eyes Gerard knew he was close.

When they looked at each other, they knew they wanted it to last forever. When they kissed, they knew they were apologising – just in case it never could.

They hid their faces in the shoulder of the other as they came, somehow thinking that hiding from the pain, just for a little while, would make it make it even a little easier. And then they stayed, just like that, memorising the feeling, memorising each other, every hair and freckle and spot and scar and bruise like it was the first time they’d even seen them.

And in the fading darkness of their cell, as the cold early morning light began to take over, they uttered the words they never wanted to.

I’ll miss you.

Breakfast was near silent the next morning and barely any food was consumed. The boys sat, nervous, in neat rows staring down at full plates, hungry, but with no will to eat.

If any officer other than Mr. Ratchet had been on breakfast duty they wouldn’t have noticed a thing, not really. But Ratchet, he knew the boys better than that; he knew the characters – the talkers, the fighters, the loners and everyone in between. He lent against the far wall with one foot crosses over the other and his arms crossed over his chest, studying the boys – their faces, movements, glances and whispers to each other. He tried to figure out what was happening (something was happening, he knew that much), stared hard until his eyes began to strain. He finally blinked away and let his gaze drift up to the ceiling.

Whatever it was, it was eating away at all of them, and even with his blank clueless tired mind – he felt their fear and shared it.

He’d given up trying to piece what little clues he had together during their English lesson, and instead had the boys work in mostly silence so he could sit at his desk and allow his thoughts to disappear – even if it was just for a little while. He twirled a pen between his fingers, watching as the black plastic danced across his knuckles with speed until it fell to the desk with a quiet clatter that no one noticed.

When he leant back in his chair with his hat tilting forward he could subtly peer beneath the desks, watching the busy or still hands of each boy – even the ones at the back. Some passed notes, they usually always did. He never intervened with them though; he figured they were allowed at least some privacy. Some pulled on the material of their trouser leg, making a fist around a wad of grey as they concentrated, relaxing again once they became engrossed in the work.

And then his eyes caught something new, but not completely surprising. Held hands. Entwined fingers. Rubbing thumbs. He smiled a little, mostly because he remembered what it was like being young and holding hands. One hand gave soft squeezes in a pulsating rhythm, like a heart beat, and he tilted his hat back a little so he could glance at their faces, though he already knew who it would be. What he didn’t expect, and what made the smile slowly disappear from his face, was the look of utter fear and helplessness on Gerard’s face. It was Frank’s hand giving the reassuring squeezes, and on his face was a smile to do the same – however uneasy it may have been.

“Iero,” Henry called as the boys made their way out across the tarmac. Frank turned to find the ball rolling to his feet. He stopped it with the side of his right foot, looking up to see the question on Henry’s face. He softly kicked the ball back.

“Maybe later.”

Henry cocked his head to the side and allowed the ball to roll past him. “If there is one,” he said before turning and jogging away. Frank shook it off and continued walking towards Gerard, who was stood at the entrance to their corner.

“You can play y’know, I don’t mind.”

Frank shook his head as they slipped out of view from the others, “I’m not in the mood. I’m dying for a smoke.” Gerard nodded and followed silently.

He remained standing as Frank sat down to roll the cigarettes they hadn’t had time to roll last night. He laid the paper on the ground before pulling out a small crumpled paper bag which held the last of the week’s tobacco. Gerard watched as Frank’s shaky hands tipped the brown flecks in to the V of the paper, the tremor getting worse as it spread up his arms. Gerard sat down directly in front of Frank as he tried to roll the tobacco in to a neat cylinder, and took the half made cigarette from him. Frank sighed and allowed Gerard to do so, chewing at the inside of his cheek as Gerard licked a strip along the edge of the paper, finishing it off.

It seemed as though nerves were getting to all of them, even Frank. Gerard didn’t know whether to be relieved that he wasn’t the only one or terrified. Purely terrified.

Frank handed him the matches and he took them, lighting the cigarette with a quick skill he’s learnt from watching Frank so many times before. As Gerard took a drag Frank pressed their open mouths together, breathing in the nicotine for himself. He pulled back and ex hailed the smoke, smiling in the way which comforted Gerard the most. Gerard chuckled, smiling down at the ground as he took another drag.

“One day,” Frank announced after several more moments of smoke filled silence, “I’m gonna take you to a show.”

“Yeah?” Gerard said with an arch of his eyebrow. Frank nodded. “Okay.”

“You’ll love it. We can jump and shout and smoke.” Frank’s smile continued to grow as he remembered just what it was like, the music and the sweat, the smell and the taste of good times. Gerard smiled just watching.

“Can’t wait.”

“Good, coz it’s gonna be fucking great,” Frank stated, nodding as he grabbed the half smoked cigarette from Gerard’s grasp. Gerard watched as Frank finished it off, pressing the tips of his thumbs together as he tried to imagine what a punk show would be like. If it was even half of what Frank made it out to be then yeah, he couldn’t wait.

It was five minutes until the dinner call would be sounded and the boys waited anxiously in their cells. Each room was silent, every boy still of movement as they stared in to nothing and thought. All the planning, all the dreaming, all the talk and everything else surrounding it came down to this – to now. All the suffering, all the waiting and the wondering – it was over. The weeks of fear and regret, uncertainty and disbelief washed away and now, now they were numb and ready. Ready for everything - for one last stand.

For one last fight.

Frank had been lay on the floor, staring at the grey ceiling for a good long minute before Gerard slipped down from the bed and crawled on top of him, straddling his thighs and staring down at him. Frank looked up, his hands crawling up Gerard’s legs until they found their resting place. Gerard leant forward, planting a hand at either side of Frank’s head as he towered over him. He stared again. Frank would have spoken if he could, if the words weren’t locked in his throat along with his breath.

Gerard’s eyes ran down his face, down his neck to his chest and then back up again. His lips parted as if to speak, but after a pause he licked his lips (as if changing his mind) and dipped his head low, capturing Frank in an unusual kiss.

Of course it wasn’t the fact that they were kissing that made it so unusual, it was the way in which they were kissing. It was something Frank had never experienced before, with Gerard or anyone else for that matter. This kiss, this parting of lips and subtle sliding of tongues, it was so – so mature. There was no innocence of youth, no urge to giggle or to press against one and other in a mess of hormones – it was just them, just kissing and nothing more. Frank squeezed his eyes shut tighter, blindly feeling around for Gerard’s face, holding it beneath his fingertips once he’d found it.

For him, it was their last kiss, and nothing more.

Mr. Ward’s polished shoes squeaked against the unpolished floor as he strode quickly from one side of the borstal wing to the other, hands held behind his back and baton tucked tightly beneath his belt. He’d received the call barely thirty seconds ago and he was already nearing the dining hall, taking a hold of his keys to unlock the first of two metal gates on the cell block corridor. He kept them in his fist in an iron tight grip as he slammed the first gate closed, locking it and turning quick to stride over to the second not fifteen meters away.

When he entered the lunch room it was silent. Not a word or a movement was to be seen or heard as the boys sat in their neat rows, hands by their sides and untouched meals in front of them. Just silence.

The wing officers and the cook stood at the serving hatch, watching over the desert of boys as Mr. Ward made his way over to them, glancing at the boys once or twice before he stopped in front of Mr. Ratchet.

“What’s going on?” He demanded.

Mr. Ratchet held his shoulders tight as he shook his head. “I don’t know Sir, they’re refusing to eat.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this food,” the wing chef cut in (a short fat man with a bad over comb of greasy brown hair), “absolutely nothing the ungrateful bastards!”

“Make them eat,” Mr. Ward stated – then looking at Mr. Ratchet to repeat it for emphasis, eyes narrowing, “make them eat.”

“I can’t literally force them,” Mr. Ratchet tried to explain, but his response was met with a glare.

“Like hell you can’t,” he snapped, turning on his heel and walking quickly to the middle table, his eyes fixated on one group of boys. “You Iero, stand up!” He barked, jutting his pointed finger out towards the boy. Frank slowly got up from his seat and stood at the side of the table, the other boys looking dead ahead, apart from Gerard who couldn’t hold back the one glance. “Eat!” Frank remained still and silent, just like the other, not even flinching when Mr. Ward stepped closer and demanded, “Eat!”

With his jaw set in grim determination Frank narrowed his eyes and spat, “Scum.”

“What? What did you say to me?” Mr. Ward snarled, eyes ablaze as he squared up to Frank, so close he could smell monster on his breath.

“Scum,” Frank spat once more, clenching his fists and spitting out the word again, “scum,” and again, “scum.”

“Scum,” Rastus chorused along with Frank.

“Scum,” Gaz joined in.

“Scum,” Hector and Henry added.

“Scum,” Gerard barked, his nails digging in to the wood of the table in front.

“Scum,” the rest of the boys chanted.

“Scum, scum, scum!”

Louder with each call.

Scum-Scum-Scum-Scum,” until it became a steady rhythm, a heartbeat of their freedom as they became a choir for their fear. “ScumScumScum,” faster and faster, louder and louder, “ScumScumScumScumScum.”

When the chants became almost deafening, closing in around Mr. Ward like collapsing walls Frank ripped his dinner tray from the table and hurled it against the wall.

That was all they needed.

The room erupted, exploded like a hand grenade deep within the belly of the borstal, each boy suddenly alight with the fire in their eyes as destruction began.

Mr. Ward scattered off to the other officers as the first table wan unturned, yanking his baton from his belt and pointing with it at the rest of them and then towards the boys. The chef disappeared back in to the kitchen, pulling down the iron block on the serving hatch. The other officers made a shield, a human wall of authority.

Mr. Ratchet remained at the end of the shield, his baton still firmly tucked in his belt.

The shield of officers ran from the short distance to the entrance of the kitchen to the edge of the dinning hall doors, where Mr. Ratchet was stood. It was apparent the boys had no intention of even trying to pass them, they were content with the chaos they could create in the middle of the room with food trays, seats and tables, scrambling on top of anything like triumphant warriors as they hollered out across the room.

With one call of NOW from Gaz as he stood atop an upturned table the boys turned and advanced.

This was a more than interesting turn of events and the boys relished in it, adored the wicked feeling at the look in the officer’s eyes as they all advanced on them, stalking closer to their vulnerable pray.

Numbers, that’s what we’ve got on them. Numbers.

And then they were swallowed, deep in to the belly of the beast that had broken its chain.

In the mess of shouts, screams and calls Gerard heard nothing. The world spun right past him, objects, bodies, fists, faces spun right past his ears at warped speeds and he saw none of it, just a blur of colour as he began to drown. And just as he felt himself being pulled under, someone yanked him back out.

Frank’s hand was firmly gripping Gerard’s shoulder as he yanked him out of the path of a hurtling food tray. When Gerard spun round to face him two bodies collided in to theirs, quickly regaining composure. Henry, panting through a bloody lip, thrust a ball of metal in to Frank’s hand, thumping his shoulder lightly, smirking at them both before turning to grin at Hector, shoving him back in to the sea of chaos. Not a heartbeat later Frank took a bruising hold of Gerard’s arm and yanked him to the edge of the room, invisible under the cover of destruction.

Only one person saw them slip through the doors, and with a knowing look, he let them leave.

Gerard had never run so fast trying to keep up with Frank, losing his footing more than once as they slid around corners, the cell doors whizzing past his head in a similar blur to the chaos in the room just behind them. He wasn’t sure they were going to stop as the first gate came closer, approaching them just as fast as they were approaching it.

Gerard managed to slow himself, but Frank crashed straight in to it, his arms slipping through the bars, metal crushing against his ribs but he didn’t care. He struggled with the key as he shoved it in to the lock and turned with his shaking hands, yanking it out violently and pushing the gate open, flying through it at a speed which made Gerard wonder if Frank even knew he was there. He still followed though.

As they got to the second gate Frank pushed the key in to the lock and paused, turned to look at Gerard who stood just behind him, panting. There was a trail of blood, small and thick trickling from Frank’s nose. Gerard reached out to touch it but Frank pulled his head away.

“Later,” he said, pushing the gate open and taking hold of Gerard’s hand, squeezing it tightly as he pulled him along and they ran the last stretch of corridor side by side.

It seemed they’d been running forever as they reached the office door, Gerard’s legs began to burn but he was too busy running on whatever was lighting Frank’s eyes to care. Frank took hold of the handle, his eyes widening in surprise as the door slipped easily open. He gave it another firm shove before pulling Gerard inside.

As soon as they were in the room Gerard’s insides screamed, coiled, shrank and shattered. It was bigger than he remembered and this time he couldn’t smell the fear but the taste in his mouth was still bitter. The desk stood at the far end of the room, towering and haunting, mocking as the shadows of the room loomed towards it. Frank squeezed his hand once more before letting go and advancing towards the desk.

“You take the filing cabinets,” he instructed, pulling at the draws to see which ones were locked.

Gerard closed the door revealing the silver filing cabinet behind it. He started with the top, tugging it open and dipping his hand inside to pull out a wad of paper. He studied their words quickly, his eyes fleeting over titles. He threw each one to the floor in disappointment, pulling out more papers as he heard a crunching of metal. Looking up Frank stood triumphant with a broken lock in his hand. Gerard went back to his papers.

A few moments later Frank gasped, and as Gerard looked over he found the younger boy grinning, his hand disappearing in to the second draw, reappearing once more with his fingers pressed around the cool metal of a pistol.

Just as he was about to speak footsteps boomed outside the door. As if from instinct Frank ducked beneath the desk just as the door shot open, clanging against the filing cabinet and locking Gerard in his own triangular cage. His vocal chords tightened in shock and he squeaked, only to have one wall of his cage ripped away not a second later.

It didn’t take long for Mr. Ward to grab the front of Gerard’s jumper and pull him from the corner, banging his back against the wall as a familiar pain shot through his back and chest.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he growled as his hand closed over Gerard’s throat, squeezing tighter until it locked around his windpipe. “Enjoy it more than having you over my desk,” he said with narrowing eyes as he began to lift Gerard up a little higher, his feet barely touching the ground and he held the boy up with the strength from his rage whilst Gerard could barely find the breath to whimper.

As the tears began to sting his eyes closed he heard the clicking of metal, the cocking of a gun as Mr. Ward’s eyes were suddenly averted to the side, to the circle of the barrel of his own gun pressing softly against his temple. He smirked, relaxing his grip on Gerard’s throat but not releasing as the boy gasped and gulped at the oxygen in the air.

“Well then, Iero-”

“No,” Frank interrupted, his voice hot and sharp. “No,” he repeated as the blood ran scorching through his veins. “You’re the Scum, you are, it’s you. You’re worthless, you’re nothing – you’re Scum you bastard.” He paused to pant and then growled “now take your fucking hands off him.” Without realizing it Frank had moved back a foot or two as he’d spoken, the pistol now shaking in his grip.

Mr. Ward threw his head back and laughed. Bringing it forward again he repeated, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Before he could smirk, Frank fired.

Gerard’s eyes were still closed seconds after he felt the pressure leave his throat. He sucked in his breath, quick and hard as he was still deciding if he was alive or not. When he felt the flitter of fingertips against the side of his neck he knew they were still here. When he opened his eyes the pistol was on the ground, the body sprawled across the carpet and head slumped against the wall, a burst of red surrounding it like a smashed halo.

Frank opened the bottom draw of the filing cabinet, and there they were. The files, their files, every truth and ever lie about each one of them on paper, written by the monster which lay slain. He nodded to himself and turned back to Gerard.

As Frank’s fingers brushed over the reddening marks on Gerard’s throat once more, the door opened again.

When Mr. Ratchet entered his eyes locked on to the two boys in confusion. As he followed the stains down to the floor he threw himself back in to the wall like he was a matching pole to the body. With his hand pressed against his mouth he stayed glued to the wall, mumbling obscenities of disbelief in to his palm, each word brining in the salt from his skin. His eyes lifted back up to the two boys, to Frank’s hand which still lay against the marks on Gerard’s throat.

He lowered his hand from his mouth, gulping down the breath he’d been holding. And, as if he’d suddenly been snapped back in to action, he shoved his hand in to his pocket, pulling out a single large key on a small hoop of its own. He handed it to Frank.

“Go,” he whispered as Frank took the key, eyes glazed in a daze of disbelief. “Go,” he said a little louder, a command (almost), frantic and uneasy. He grabbed a hold of Frank’s shoulder. Shoving him towards the door and doing the same with Gerard. He pushed at their backs as they tripped over themselves, desperate to get them out.

With one last look back, they went.

Mr. Ratchet closed the door and turned back to the body on the ground. Without the menacing look in his eyes or a smirk on his lips he almost felt sorry for the shell that lay before him. Using the white handkerchief from his back pocket he picked up the pistol from the carpet and with one hand over his nose and mouth he eased the object in to the open hand resting next to a pool of red.

He stood back up in one breath, staring down at what they’d done, at what he’d done.

The open drawer on the filing cabinet caught his eye, and he didn’t even have to peer inside to know what was in there or the boys intentions for being in that office.

Picking up the box of matches which had fallen from the inside of one of Frank’s socks he selected a match, striking it against the gritty brown strip.

He then dropped it in amongst the files.

By the time Frank and Gerard reached the woods just beyond the gates the boys had scattered through out most of the borstal and had begun to spill out. No officers were seen amongst the boys as they claimed the building as their own, and everything which lay inside of it because now – this place, this prison, this slaughter house – it was theirs.

The Criminal Justice Act abolished the borstal system in 1982.

Frank and Gerard were never found.

[A/N: Oh my god. Oh MY god! I can’t believe it’s actually finished. It’s actually fucking finished! I’ve been writing this for over a year now and holy crap IT’S FINISHED! That’s just, wow. I hope you all enjoyed reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it. No really, I loved it, even the horrible parts. I’m going to miss this story like crazy, you all have no idea. I’m going to be so BORED now!]

[Thank You: Obviously thank you to EVERYONE who ever read this, even if it was only one part. A huge thank you to everyone who ever commented. I know there were a few regulars (you know who you are) but I just gotta say a massive thank you to alana2x1 for commenting me the most awesome comments without fail, and for her endless support. And a HUGE thank you to my amazing xoxxblitz7 for endless support, advice and just for listening to me rant about this thing for over a year. You’re a fucking star baby, and I love you like you’ll never know. Thank you to everyone who loved this, thank you to everyone who hated it. THANK YOU!]

[Also: It’s my 18th birthday tomorrow, and this is my present to myself. I’ve been driving myself insane trying to finish this, so it really is an amazing feeling (but also really sad) to finally have this done. I also go to Florida on the 13th, so I won’t be around for two weeks. I’ll be back in time for my usual smutty Halloween one shot instalment, which you’ll find posted in the usual coms and also in my writing journal (shameless self pimping) heathermouth (: ]


p.s. Titles of all chapters and any songs sang/spoken/mentioned in this fic have been from one of the greatest punk bands of all time - Stiff Little Fingers (SLF). I had to fuck with time a little 'coz they came out just after the pistols - so '75, something like that. I reccomend you check 'em out. Most songs taken from the album 'Inflammable Material'.
tbhcbftbhcbf on October 11th, 2008 03:55 am (UTC)
Its finished
shit wow


i loved this story it was grrrrreat
kudos to you oi
stillchaosstillchaos on October 11th, 2008 04:35 am (UTC)
This was amazing.
So amazing it seems that a sequel is perfect.
Can't wait for the halloween smut!
xbiankisxxbiankisx on October 11th, 2008 04:36 am (UTC)

this was amazing! =D

honestly as stupid as its gonna make me sound this story makes me wanna fall in LOVE! lol

its just so damn GOOD!

& I love mr ratchet! hes my hero! ^.^
xbiankisxxbiankisx on October 11th, 2008 04:37 am (UTC)
& yes SEQUEL!

Por Favor!!!!!! >.<
iamnothing_48iamnothing_48 on October 11th, 2008 05:05 am (UTC)
holy shit.
that was amazing.
i'm kinda speechless and a little teary-eyed :')
~much love
Booboo_Kittiefukk: MCR - Gerard defiant DO NOT STEAL!boobookittifukk on October 11th, 2008 05:34 am (UTC)
YES. They got out. My heart was racing and I found it hard to breathe from the moment that Frank had that confrontation with Ward in the dining room.

I'm so happy that they got out together. I like to think that after they got out, Gerard and Frank were able to stay together and do what they have dreamed of doing. Frank would have a band, Gerard would watch him, and together, they would take Mikey away.

Lastly, I just wanted to say that I absolutely loved Ratchet. He knew that the boys were suffering, and he helped them in his own way.

I'm going to miss this.
x_moshpitx_moshpit on October 11th, 2008 06:52 am (UTC)
That was a fantastic ending.
one of the best ever.
devourlovedevourlove on October 11th, 2008 07:46 am (UTC)
Wow. I just started and finished in one day, and boy am i glad that I did. This story is fantastic <33 Lol, i feel like crying at the ending but idk why, so let's just say I loved this story!
gemmmmericedgemm on October 11th, 2008 09:03 am (UTC)
I have to say this is one of my all time favourite fics.
The ending was perfect and I'm so happy that Ratchet helped. (He reminded me of the friendly guard from Porridge)
You had me sat on the edge of me seat for the last chapter, I honestly thought they were going to fail and end up commiting suicide. I'm so happy you didnt.

paraphernaelia on October 11th, 2008 12:10 pm (UTC)
Oh my God. It's done :/

I loved all of this, every sentence of it. I'll miss it to bits ♥
Cassieeyeslashes on October 11th, 2008 12:15 pm (UTC)
You couldn't have given it a better ending.

Now that it's finished I'm seriously gonna start translating. Like very seriously. And just wow, it was amazing.

They never forget the word 'scum', did they? They did a great revolution. There are a few sentences that sent shivers down my spine. Like the one of the unleashed monster.

I'm gonna miss Scum so much:'( Happy birthday, hon;) It was a great present to yourself, to finish Scum. It's always so recomforting to see something you've created, so beautiful and carefully planed, have an end, a moment of peace. Just in case it won't gent rest in the minds of us the readers who have seen the unpolished floors of the corridors, heard the squeak of shoes against surfaces that were smooth in their years of glory, smelt the disgusting food of the fat cook. Those of us who have lived their revolution and their chant for a won battle.

This has been massively epic, you dear.

(And fuck, I was listening to Gap by The Kooks while reading. Ugh, agh, it has an epic feeling to the epicness of this last chapter.)
Cassie: Chris Faller2eyeslashes on October 11th, 2008 12:17 pm (UTC)
And now that I can say it without a doubt. Not that I've ever doubted, anyway.

This has to be the best AU Frerard ever written.

It will always be a must on my list of fic!recs.
Catherine: Frankie and Geealana2x1 on October 11th, 2008 02:24 pm (UTC)
Omg! I can't believe it's over! This was such an amazing fic and I'm gonna miss it so much. You should be so proud of yourself for this, Hev. This is definitely up there with the best Frerards on here. You've down a bang up job with this throughout, but especially the last chapter (both parts). I mean, I know you must have worked really hard on all of it, but especially on these last two parts, and it really shows. AMAZING!

The bgeinning was some of the best descriptive writing of that nature I've ever read. You really honed it down so it was pitch perfect. It was so loving and just...you could tell they were remembering anything and everything about the moment in case it was their last time doing anything like that.

I loved that parts of this were from Ratchet's point of view. It was good how he knew something was up but didn't make too much of it, but just sat back, keeping an eye in his own mind, and then when hell did break loose he just knew and was ready for it.

Then from the point of Ward going into the dining room, 'til the very end, I was utterly hooked and reading every word on my screen like my life depended on it. And believe you me, that is a very difficult thing for any author to conjure up. You wrote out the final scenes perfectly.

I am so glad Ward finally got what was coming to him (and that it was Frank that dished it out). I love that you used Ratchet as their final um...key to escape. I feel that you've been building up his character to give him that major, pivitol role in the story, and it totally worked out great.

The absolute, final ending bit worked out great too. I mean, I'm normally dead against open-ended type endings ('cause I'm such a curious thing and like to know every detail of major characters in stories I've enjoyed so much) but honestly, I don't mind about this ambigious ending 'cause I am dead cert on the fact they got away and got to live their dreams out together. I thought you handled the ending brilliantly! and I was so glad they both got out.

Overall, this fic is fantastic! I love it to bits and shall be meming it and just...yeah, well done, Hev! :DDD
vampire_x831 on October 11th, 2008 07:25 pm (UTC)
i am at a loss for words
... that was INCREDIBLE
i've never read another fic quite like this one holy shit you're amazing iuernwk D:
Hotshot Robot: Lol - Aliciaxceciliastarr on October 11th, 2008 10:50 pm (UTC)
Ahhhh. Okay, let me breathe.....

Omg. I seriously LOVE you! Here I was expecting someone (well, someone like Frank or Gerard, anyway) die, and the only one that does is Ward! This is probably the happiest ending in the world, completely because of what probably almost everyone was expecting.

I don't have enough words for this story, and even if I did, I couldn't express them well enough. I followed this back on Quizilla and it's been really amazing really amazing reading each update, as much as I never wanted this to finish. <3

And happy birthday!

minorityrulez on October 11th, 2008 10:55 pm (UTC)
wo0o0ow jus gtta say tht this was probs one of the best fics i've read (n one of the first). I'm so glad u didn't choose to end it wiv them dying or summink cos they had been thru enuff shit already, so yeh i think it ended perfectly bt a sequel wud be niiice XD