LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

Looking For An Answer by Technicolorlover

The Fruit

I’m actually really nervous about posting this story. It’s a bit of an unusual crossover with my favorite anime, One Piece, but it’s written in a way where you don’t have to be a fan to understand. But I’m nervous for another reason. I started writing this story only a few days after we lost Chester. This story became my way of coping with the loss of such a beautiful soul. So as a result, it’s gonna be very emotional instead of my usual humor/smut. But fear not! There will be action! Suspense! Laughter! Tears! And so much more!


Oh and don’t worry, the next chapter of The Blackout Diner will be out shortly. I plan on updating this around once a week. Please let me know what you think in the reviews!


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*WARNING: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE*


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Chester woke up to the feeling of water soaking through his boots and sun peaking through his closed eyes. Which was odd, because he was at least eighty percent sure that he had fallen asleep in his house. He let a groan escape as he sat up. Damn, his throat was sore; he hoped that he wasn’t coming down with a cold so close to the start of the tour.


Now where was he?


He took in his surroundings as he stood up. He was on a beach, he realized. He was wearing an old gray v-neck t-shirt, his favorite pair of skinny blue jeans, and his lucky black boots. His favorite pair of glasses were next to him. He carefully brushed the sand off, not wanting to scratch the lenses. Good, his wedding band was still on, Talinda would kill him if he lost that. His gauges were in his ears too. Donning the glasses he took in his surroundings.


Where the fuck was he? The last thing he remembered was getting ready for bed, they had a photoshoot in the morning.


This was probably Mike and Joe’s idea of a practical joke. He felt his pockets for his wallet and phone, which was still attached to its charger for some reason along with a pair of earbuds, only to be greeted by no reception.


The mystery of his location deepened.


He looked out at the ocean. There were no signs of any other land. And behind him appeared to be a small tropical forest. Should he stay put or explore his surroundings?


A growl erupted from his stomach. Oh right, as far as he could remember, he hadn’t eaten yet. And by judging from the position of the sun, it was probably late afternoon. Might as well explore, but best keep to the shoreline. After all, the last thing he wanted to do was get lost.


Well, even more lost that is.


Choosing one direction, he headed off.


“Guys, if this is your idea of a joke then you’ve really outdone yourselves.” He shouted as he continued walking. “You really gotta tell me how you got me here without me knowing.”


There was no response. Fuckers were committed, he had to give them that.


All too quickly he realized that he was back where he woke up. Wherever he was, it was an island, and a small one at that. It’d taken him only thirty minutes to walk around the entire island.


What the hell?


“Okay guys you win, I give up, can we go home now?” He shouted, now sounding more nervous than before. A sinking feeling in his stomach told him something was wrong, very wrong. The silence that answered him seemed to confirm his suspicions.


The forest, they had to be hiding in the forest.


He broke out into a mad dash for the forest, desperate to see someone, anyone.


“Mike? Joe? Rob? Dave? Brad? Talinda? ANYONE?” He shouted at the top of his lungs. Well, as loud as he could shout. His voice was slightly hoarse and his throat was really starting to hurt.


It was all too quick before he reached the other side of the island. Alone.


He caught his breath for a few seconds and headed back into the forest, this time in a slightly different direction.


“GUYS? GUYS? GUYS?” He shouted, desperate for some confirmation that he wasn’t alone.


All he was greeted with was silence. And the goddamned ocean.


With a cry he ran back into the forest. He knew deep down that he was the only one there; he wouldn't magically run into his band mates or his wife and kids.


Rational thought went out the window around an hour ago though.


He repeated the process of running through the forest, shouting for his band mates and family two more times before he tripped over an exposed tree root. It was then that he realized that were tears running down his face.


Where the fuck was he? How did he get here? The last thing he remembered…


Two beer bottles. He had downed one bottle and half of another. Not enough to really impair him. Just enough to get through the day. After all, it was Chris’ birthday. He needed a little pick-me-up, that’s all. But the memory of the shame he felt on breaking his six month sobriety was also returning.


A fire. He had to build a fire. If he was really alone on an island, he had to build a fire to get someone’s attention. Now was not the time to be panicking.


Actually if there ever was a time to panic, now was it.


He wiped the remaining tears from his eyes and stood up. There was plenty of wood around him at least, but how to start a fire? He had seen some rocks throughout the island, some of them had to those fire starting rocks, right? He was a Boy Scout as a child, he could figure this out. Slowly he started gathering fire supplies and bringing them to where he woke up.


It was as he was examining the various rocks and trying to remember if these were the helpful fire starting kind, or the not so helpful kind, something fell on the ground. He looked over and saw a strange looking fruit. He walked over and picked it up.


Weird.


The fruit was the shape and size of an apple, but it was teal and covered with thick black swirls. It was heavy for its size too. Looking up to see where it could have fallen from, all he could see was a lone bird.


His stomach gave another growl, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since the night before.


Was he seriously considering eating something that he couldn’t recognize? Not only that, but it fell from the sky. That was some biblical shit right there.


But he couldn’t ignore the fact that as far as he knew, he was alone on a deserted island and all he could find for food were a few coconuts.


Might as well keep it, he figured. He managed to shove it into his pocket before he gathered up the various rocks he had chosen and headed back to his woodpile.


After what felt like forever he managed to get a small fire going.


“Ha! I am a fire GOD!” he shouted. Chester: 1 Deserted Island: 0.


Now for some food. He grabbed a coconut that he was fairly sure was… ripe? Was that what you called a coconut that was ready to eat? He’d have to Google it when he got home. He picked up the largest rock he could find and started hitting the damn oversized nut with it.


After what felt like forever he finally got it open only to be hit by a putrid smell. Great, it was rotten. That was worrisome, but there were more. He went at it again.


And again.


And again.


Oh this was some bullshit.


He had rounded up about a half dozen of these fuckers and every single one was bad. Looking up at the trees, he saw that none of them were bearing fruit. Chester: 1 Deserted Island: 6.


Son of a bitch.


His stomach growled. He eyed that teal apple thing. It was taunting him, he was certain of it.


He considered his options. It was now dark out. He’d have to fashion some sort of fishing spear or rod if he wanted to eat something from the ocean, assuming there was anything nearby. He could also explore the island some more. There had to be more food options besides coconuts on the damn island. But he didn’t know how long that could take. How long could a person go without food anyway?


That apple thing was staring at him. It was either that or he was starting to go crazy. Maybe he was dehydrated? He recalled seeing a small watering hole somewhere in the middle of the island. Hopefully it wasn’t bacteria and parasite filled or things were going to get bad really fast. He had a fire at least. If he could find a way to hold water, then he could boil it. That’s what he’s supposed to do, right? Boil water?


He was gonna have to eat the damn apple wasn’t he? Who knew when he’d be able to eat next? It would at least partially fill his stomach and give him some juice to soothe his sore throat.


Groaning he grabbed the apple and took a bite.


It was easily the worst thing he had ever tasted. It tasted like a pen had broken in his mouth, the flavor of ink coated his tongue.


Without even really meaning to, he swallowed.


He restrained himself from tossing the damn thing into the ocean. With a grimace, he forced himself to eat the entire thing. Now was not the time to be wasting what little food he had. If he even started to feel sick, he’d make himself throw up. That would work, right?


It was pitch black now, the fire and the moon his only source of light. As much as he hated the situation now, he had to admit, he had an amazing view of the stars right now.


His heart sank. Wherever he was, it was far enough away from land where light pollution couldn’t affect the night sky. He was all alone. Not only that but he didn't recognize a single constellation. That was weird. He had traveled around the world several times with his band and had a fair idea of what constellations went where. None of these stars seemed familiar. Gazing up at the night sky he felt the gravity of his situation take hold.


He cried himself to sleep.


He woke up this time to someone poking him in the cheek with a stick.


“Hey mister, you alive?”


He opened his eyes and saw two figures standing in front of him. One was a man around his age, with black hair, with white hair coming in around his temples. His skin was tanned and he was wearing a white t-shirt with orange overalls.


The stick wielder was a young boy, around Tyler’s age. He too was wearing a white tee with orange overalls. Odd thing was, this kid had spiky blue hair.


He really shouldn’t be talking with his questionable past hair choices.


The older man gave a smile, “Good to see you’re awake! We saw the smoke from your fire, you shipwrecked or something?” he asked.


‘Or something’ was about right.


“Um… I don’t really know,” Chester admitted, “I woke up here yesterday. No clue how I wound up here.”


“Well it’s a good thing we found you then. My son Jean and I don’t normally fish around here but I’m glad we did. I’m Sheppard by the way,” the man, Sheppard extended his hand. Chester grasped the outstretched hand.


“Chester. Chester Bennington. You wouldn’t happen to know where I am, would you?”


“You’re in the East Blue, about a quarter of a day’s sail from Homi Island. We live in Havatii Village there.” Sheppard answered.


East Blue? Was that a local name for something? Maybe the Atlantic? And Homi Island? Never heard of it.


“Is that near California?” Chester asked. Sheppard and Jean looked confused.


“Is that the island where you’re from?” Jean asked.


Okay, who doesn’t know where Cali is? This was getting weird.


“It’s not an island, it’s a state in the US. You know, Hollywood, LA, San Francisco?” he tried to explain. By the looks on their faces, they had no idea what he’s talking about.


“You okay mister? How long have you been out here?” Jean asked. Chester sighed. Maybe if he could find a map he could get them to point out where they were.


“Listen, how about you come with us? You clearly aren’t doing too hot. I’ll introduce you to the missus. You’re welcome to stay with us until you figure out where you need to go.” Sheppard offered.


For the first time in what felt like forever, Chester smiled.


“Yeah, that’d be great.”


As it turned out, Sheppard and Jean were fishermen. Their sailboat was small, enough for a small cabin that had a bunk bed, a tiny kitchen, and a table.


Jean was curious about everything.


“What're those things in your ears?” He asked. Chester absentmindedly brought his hand up to one of his gauges, as if to check that they were still there.


“They're called gauges,” the singer explained while popping one out to show the boy. “They're like really big earrings only they leave a big hole in your ear. See?” He stuck the tip of his pinky through the hole, causing Jean to let a ‘cool!’ out. Pointing at his flame tattoos, Jean asked,


“What’s with the tattoos?” Chester gave a smile and explained,


“I like getting tattoos. Get to express who I am. Feel a little pain for something that’s beautiful and reminds you of the obstacles you’ve overcome.”


“So you a pirate?” Jean asked. Chester laughed.


“Nah, I’m a musician, I sing in a band called Linkin Park.” Chester explained. The blank look on the both Jean and his father's faces told him they’d never heard of him or his band. Well that was to be expected, he supposed. If they had never heard of California or the US, odds were they’d never heard of Linkin Park.


“I only see tattoos on pirates an’ outlaws. Better hope the Marine capt’n back home don’t think you’re one.” Jean said. Sheppard gave an angry glare at his son.


“Jean, be nice to our guest. I’m sure Chester is a perfect law abiding citizen.”


So wherever he was had marines. And pirates were a concern here apparently. Hopefully they wouldn’t recognize him and ransom him. And yes he was a model citizen, thank you very much. Sure there were a few parking tickets here and there, but he had paid those fines fair and square.


“But I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s with the bruise, Chester?” Sheppard asked.


“What bruise?” Chester asked, scanning his body. Unless it was on his back, he couldn’t find one.


“On your neck,” Jean pointed out, “Looks like someone grabbed you real tight.”


Chester paled. No… he couldn’t have…that was a dream, right?


“You wouldn’t happen to have a mirror, would you?” he asked. Sheppard nodded.


“In the cabin there should be a nightstand next to the bunk. I keep it there-“ Chester didn’t hear the rest, he had already descended into the cabin, furiously looking for the mirror. He let out a small ‘ah’ when he found the small hand held and raised it to his face.


The memories came flooding back. The sadness over Chris’ death pushing him over the edge. The two bottles of beer. The shame of breaking his sobriety. The belt on the door.


It wasn’t a dream.


He had killed himself.


Then where in the hell was he? What the fuck was going on?


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So how was it? Like I said, I’ve written it in a way where you don’t have to know about One Piece to understand. I promise, that as chapters go by, things will start to make sense. I really hope you guys like it so far! Let me know with a review!

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