Identity [Gerard Way] *Completed*

Chapter Twenty Five

An abandoned apartment building. That's where we need to go. We can see it in front of us, except it's far away. But not too far away. Close enough for us to sprint towards it and lock ourselves up. There's nowhere else for us to go. The people stare, and we end up running. Running is all we know.

I sigh. There's a long, empty length in between the building and us, all pavement. A parking lot. Full of fog. Where we're standing- behind another building. We're both barely looking out. Gerard and I are only staring, eyes wide, as if something would emerge from the emptiness.

But nothing does. At least for now.

"It's like a forest." Gerard whispers, eyes flitting back and forth as he scans the empty parking lot.

"What is?" I ask. I think there's movement ahead. I can't blink.

"The cities," Gerard only looks at me for a second. "They're like forests, except the trees are the buildings. And it's much uglier."

I blink. He's right. In a forest, there'd be a large collection of trees, and here in the city... "That's pretty deep."

Gerard's eye twitches. "I can't tell if you're serious."

"I am." I nod, but I'm still not looking at him. I swear there's something moving ahead. Or maybe there's nothing.

"I can see it too, Lynx," Gerard sounds like he was reading my mind. "Something's there."

I finally look over. "You seem to always know what I'm thinking."

He shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes. "Not what you're thinking. What you're feeling. I can tell. By your face."

"Oh." I lick my lips. Now I feel like I'm being watched.

He stares at me for a moment, no expression on his face. Then he heaves a breath and looks back out. "We should go over there."

"But, someone's there-"

"Something. I said something."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "What difference does it make?"

He shrugs, biting his lip. "Whatever it was is gone now."

I squint into the fog to make sure he's right. He is. Nothing moves now. I say nothing in response. It doesn't feel like Gerard even needs a response.

"Let's go."

We walk along slowly, Gerard in front. I can tell he hates moving, because of his hand. The shirt is still tied around it, but it's practically useless now. Blood is seeping out of it and running down is arm. He tries not to let it bother him. His eyes are distant. I can tell he's worried, about a lot of things. I don't blame him. I'm worried, too.