Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You don’t understand, do you, Patrick?” Courtney said, watching the women pin the singer on the machine. “You. You are his only weakness. Pete would never hurt you, he would never even lay a finger on you.” She smiled, as Patrick glared at her, hate and confusion obvious on his face. “And you know why?”

The leader leaned forward, and looked at him right in the eyes.

“Because he loves you too much to do it.”

Pete didn’t like this.

When he agreed on protecting that damn briefcase, he wasn’t expecting to be caught by a bunch of psycho women, having to slit a woman’s throat to escape, and certainly not to watch his two best friends being killed by his other best friend.

Granted, it wasn’t really his best friend. Patrick was possessed, courtesy of those psychopaths. He had no idea of what he was doing until he “woke up”.

But that’s not too comforting when he’s trying to kill you.

Which it was what was happening to Pete right now. He was in the middle of the fucking Death Valley, running away from a possessed and very angry Patrick, with only the briefcase and a cool “bass-sword”.

Not that he was planning on using it against Patrick, of course. Hurting his best friend was out of question, even if that means he might end up being killed. Oh well, he always wanted to know if Heaven was real.

The bassist hid behind a wall, trying to regain his breath. What the hell am I gonna do now? I can’t run forever!

Pete was feeling tired as hell, and he desperately needed water. He wondered where Andy was; he was praying the drummer was still alive.
He had no idea of what to do now, but one thing was certain: he had to stop running.

Pete heard steps near the place where he was hiding, and took a deep breath. I have to do this, he thought. I might not like the result of this, but I have to take action.

He got out of his hiding, briefcase in one hand and his sword on the other, pointing forward.

He saw Patrick, or his demonized version, at least. It was heartbreaking: bruises and cuts on his face, blood everywhere, and yellow eyes that showed nothing but blood thirst.

When Patrick saw the bassist, he walked to him, hook ready to attack, but Pete took a step forward, sword in front of him, making the singer stop.

Patrick growled to him, and Pete tried to think of what he should do now.

He knew that there would be a battle eventually, and that only one of them would walk it off alive. His mind was telling to fight Patrick, to fight for survival; his heart was screaming not to hurt his best friend.

He decided to go with the latter.

Pete lowered the weapon, and Patrick watched him, with something close to confusion on his eyes. Pete threw the briefcase to his left, and the sword to his right.

“I quit.” He said. “I’m not gonna fight you, Trick. I would never do it.”

He looked to the things on the floor and then to Patrick. “The briefcase is yours to have, if it’s that what you’re here for. If you want to kill me, well… Then do it. I’m not gonna try to stop you. I can’t.”

Patrick switched between the briefcase and Pete, trying to decide what was more important at the moment. He thought the bassist was more dangerous.

The singer walked to Pete, yellow eyes glowing, and threw him to the ground, placing himself on top of him.

Pete looked into those demonic eyes, and he could swear that for a moment he could see a glimpse of blue in them.

“Patrick…”

Surprisingly enough, the singer spoke.

“I hate all of you.” His voice was deformed, and it sounded ugly to Pete’s ears. “You’re my enemies; I have to take you out. Two are gone, one left.”

Pete blinked, and smiled sadly.

“You don’t hate us. Not the real you. Not the Patrick I know; not the one I love.”

He knew he was making a desperate attempt, but Hell, he was desperate! He only wanted to see Patrick’s warm blue eyes before he died.

Patrick growled. “That Patrick don’t exist. Never did.”

In one swift move, the singer craved the hook on the bassist’s neck and pushed his arm to the side, slitting his throat.

Blood shot to his face, and he turned to the side, falling off Pete’s dead body.

He got up, looking to the sky, and his eyes slowly turned blue, as he was turning back to normal.

At first, the singer looked around, confused. Where am I? What the hell am I doing here?

Then, he looked down, and saw his best friend on the ground. Dead.

His eyes widened in horror, and he unconsciously looked to his hook, which was bright red with blood.

“No…” he muttered. “No, no, no!”

He screamed, falling on his knees with his hand and hook on his head. He realized that he had killed again, and this time it was the last person he ever wanted to hurt.
God, he felt like he was dying. Maybe he was; at least he felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest.

He slowly crawled to Pete, crying hard. “Pete… God, Pete, I’m so sorry… So- so sorry…”

He cried on his friend’s chest, completely broken. He just couldn’t bear the pain, it was too damn much.

Ten minutes later, he raised his head, wiping his tears. He slowly raised his hand, caressing Pete’s face.

“At least I hope you’re in Heaven now, Panda…”

In an act of farewell, Patrick slowly locked his lips with the older man’s, kissing him softly.

He broke the kiss seconds after, tears rolling through his face again.

He didn’t exactly know why, but he felt the urge to sing to Pete, so he did. He sang the Miss Missing You chorus over and over again, voice cracking at the last times.

He got up, stumbling a little, and walked backwards, not once taking his eyes off his best friend – No, not best friend; the love of my life – ‘s body.

And because of that he didn’t notice one of the Courtney’s minions sneaking up behind him. He only realized what was happening when she stabbed him on his back.

Patrick gasped, freezing on his place, and the woman got closer to him, speaking on his ear.

“Sorry, kid. It’s nothing personal; you’re just not useful to us anymore.”

The singer fell on his knees, and watched the woman grab the briefcase and walk away.

He slowly crawled closer to Pete, and fell, losing his consciousness. He smiled, and whispered something before he closed his eyes for good.

“Baby, you were my picket fence…”

Chapter Text

The elevator stopped, dark red smoke covering everything. Patrick looked around; trying to understand what was going on. The only thing he remembered after dying was a bright white light and then he was stuck in this cube.

The little kid that ran after him with a radio before was there as well. He pressed a button, and a gate opened, revealing a man, handcuffed and with a bag on his head. He looked like he was going to be executed.

Patrick looked to his right side, and saw a small table, with a knife on it. He took the weapon and looked at it. What am I supposed to do with this?

The little kid pointed to the man, and then to the knife, and Patrick suddenly realized what he had to do.

He’s asking me to kill this man.

The singer watched the kneeling man, who seemed to be quietly sobbing, judging by his shaking shoulders.
The scene reminded him of how many people he already killed: Joe, Andy (though indirectly)…

He threw the knife to the ground on an impulse. He was tired. Tired of watching his friends die, tired of being forced to do something he doesn’t want to.

“Fuck you, I’m not gonna do it! Not again.”

The gates closed, and the kid smiled, pressing another button.

Patrick closed his eyes, and, when he opened them a second later, he found out that the elevator was different. It was white, without any smoke.

The kid’s clothes were white too, just like his own clothes, he realized. What the hell?

But the thing that shocked him the most was that the hook on his left arm was gone, and he had his hand back.

The blonde looked at his new hand, eyes wide. He smiled, incredulous. He couldn’t believe any of this.

The kid’s smile widened, and he pointed up.

“That’s where you’re going now.”

Patrick looked in that direction, and saw nothing but white. He was confused, and wondered if the place the kid was talking about was Heaven.

The elevator went up, and everything turned white…

The place looked like a big house, full of white and beige ornaments. There were stairs, and the astonished singer went down them.

However, he wasn’t prepared for what he saw at the end of the stairs.

His three best friends were there, waiting for him. They were wearing white clothes as well, and they were all smiling widely.

“Welcome back, Trick.” Pete said, smiling.

Patrick looked at the bassist, and hugged him tightly. He was so happy to see Pete again, so relieved that he wasn’t mad at him. He didn’t want to let go.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Joe exclaimed. “We’re here too, remember?”

They all laughed as Patrick went to hug Joe, and then Andy. “Sorry, got caught in the moment.” He said, chuckling.

The singer looked at them, smiling, but with a weight on his heart.

“Guys, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done any of that, I should have-”

Andy interrupted him. “Patrick, it wasn’t your fault. Those women tortured you, made you turn into that… demon. It wasn’t you who killed Joe and Pete. It was them.”

“Andy’s right.” Joe said. “You don’t have to feel guilty for our deaths, because it wasn’t you who did it. And besides, I had a really good time before I ended up here.”

The three of them laughed, as Patrick watched them, confused. What was Joe talking about?

“This bastard went to Hell for a moment.” Pete managed to say between his laughs.

“Oh.” Patrick said, but he was still a little confused. He couldn’t understand what going to Hell had of funny.

Pete walked to the singer, who was blushing. Joe and Andy looked at the pair, and walked to a corner of the room, seeing that they needed some time alone.

“I’m really sorry. I know I didn’t do any of that, but that doesn’t make me any better.”

“You have to forget that, Tricky. We’re all fine now, aren’t we? We’re in fucking Heaven!” Pete exclaimed, grinning.

“Dude! Language!”

“Whoops, sorry.” Pete said, laughing. He then looked right to the singer’s eyes. “You know, there’s something I wanted to do for a long time.”

The blonde swallowed hard, avoiding his eyes. “Yeah? What is it?”

Pete got closer, gently placing his hands on both sides of Patrick’s face.

“This.” He breathed out, before leaning down and kissing him.

The younger boy instantly closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Pete’s middle, getting lost in the kiss.

They both had wanted this for so long, but never had the courage to do it for fear of the other’s reaction.
But now, after all of the fear and pain, after all they’ve been trough until they ended up in Heaven, nothing ever felt so right.

Joe and Andy watched the scene from their place in the corner, and the guitarist awed.

“Well, we can’t say this is unexpected.” Andy said, smiling.

“I say is about freaking time they get together. Really, did they have to wait until they died for this to happen? Freaking drama queens.” Joe exclaimed, turning to Andy.

The drummer let out a shy smile. “You better remember the same almost happened to us. And anyway, better late than never, right?”

Joe smiled, wrapping an arm around the tattooed man’s waist. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The bassist broke the kiss, gasping for air. Patrick slowly opened his eyes, still a little dazed.

“Whoa…” he muttered, blinking. Pete chuckled.

“I saw what happened after I died when I got up here. I was dying to do this since I saw you walk down the stairs.”

“I can’t say the feeling wasn’t mutual…” Patrick said, making they both laugh.

Pete opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a man walking down the stairs, with glasses.

Patrick’s eyes widened. “Is that…”

Pete slowly nodded, glaring at the man. “Yeah, I think it is.”

God, in the form of Elton John, walked to them, smiling. “Welcome. I watched your battle with Courtney Love’s army of music-haters, and I can surely say you are more than worthy of being here.

“Why me as well?” Patrick asked. “I didn’t do anything to stop them. I was their weapon.”

God smiled. “Those people tortured you, Patrick. They cut your hand, turned you to a demonic-like person, and made you kill your best friends against your will. However, when you were with that little boy in the elevator, you refused to kill that man. You refused to turn back to that demon again. And that makes you as worthy, if not even more, as your friends.”

Patrick had tears on his eyes after listening to His speech. Even though he couldn’t quite forgive himself for all he done, knowing that God himself didn’t condemn him for his actions was wonderful.
He felt Pete wrapping an arm around his waist, and smiled.

Joe and Andy walked to them, and God talked.

“Now, I must say your work is not yet done. You have one more fight. And for that, you are going to need this.”

Four young women appeared, bringing the weapons for their last fight. The first gave Pete his bass, the second gave Joe his guitar, the third the drumsticks to Andy, and the last gave Patrick his guitar.

“I am going to bring you back to Earth. There, you will find many enemies, but those instruments are special, and will help you in battle.”

The four man nodded, serious. Pete discretely investigated his bass, trying to see how would this help in a battle. But hey, you don’t argue with God.

 “I wish you good luck in your fight. Now go.”

A door suddenly opened in a wall of the room, and the four walked to it.

Patrick grabbed Pete’s hand, a little nervous. He wasn’t exactly excited to fight again.
Pete saw his discomfort and gently squeezed his hand. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Patrick looked at him, and took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He grinned.

“Let’s save rock and roll.”